


After Effects

by ceirdwenfc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romance, post-DH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceirdwenfc/pseuds/ceirdwenfc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's after the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort is defeated, and George Weasley has lost his twin. This is the worst thing that has happened in George's entire life. After Effects follows George as he recovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fan fiction. It follows canon (I only include the seven books in canon), and it has two people finding each other and making a life out of ashes.  
> Rhiannon Jones is an original character that I've used often in most of my stories, not just for Harry Potter fan fiction. She seems to have found a home here, but that doesn't mean that you won't see her elsewhere as I start loading more of my works.  
> This work contains no warnings, but it does have mature themes, language and content including sexual situations including sex during a pregnancy.  
> I have included some instances of Welsh in Rhiannon's dealings with her family. I will include a glossary at the end as a last chapter if it is not included in the individual chapters. (I wrote all of the Welsh, and had it vetted by my friend, a native speaker).

Rhia opened her eyes slowly. Her head was throbbing, and she couldn't lift it up properly. Her chest felt heavy. She began to gasp for air as she realised there was a dead body on top of her, compressing her chest. She couldn't get out from under him. There were people running all around her and as she tried to focus and call out, she saw occasional bursts of wand sparks flying overhead, going in all directions.

She could feel trickles of sweat on her forehead and face. It was so hot, unusual for this time of year in the Highlands. She saw a pair of boots approaching from the castle, and she focused on those black boots as they drew closer; the pattern of the dragon scales; how the dragon skin met the sole; the slight heel at the back. The man's jeans came down over the boots touching his ankles. He very gently and reverently rolled the man off of her. At first she was happy to have a rescuer, but was soon terrified that this man might be a Death Eater and she tried to remain still.

She kept her eyes closed, but not so tight that she couldn't steal a glimpse at him every now and then. He kneeled down next to her, pressing two fingers to the side of her neck. His fingers were moist and warm. She knew that he must be able to feel her heart beating, see her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. She couldn't see his face plainly, but his eyes were clear, bright reflections in the dark pools of the continued flickers of wand light all around them. He had a shock of red hair that fell into his face as he bent over her and the necklace he wore dangled down into her view. It was very similar to her own, a Welsh dragon that her father had given her; the symbol of the Quidditch team he had captained for so long. She could feel the cold metal of her amulet against her skin, and for a second she almost thought he was a team-mate of her Dad's, but as his drew closer to her line of sight, she saw that his trinket was more like a bird than a dragon.

He spoke finally in a hushed calm tone. "Can you hear me? Are you hurt? I'm with the Order of the Phoenix, and I can help. Come with me back to the castle." He waited and she waited, not responding, and finally he rose and slowly began to walk away towards the next nearest body. Rhia opened her eyes first and then sat up watching him silently, moving from body to body. She jumped up to join him, but there was another body closer to her; the one he had just removed from her. She stumbled over his mangled arm, almost falling on him, but instead falling back into the grass, touching his hand. It was Jamie, the Healer she had followed out into the grounds to assist with the wounded. He was dead. He was dead, and she instinctively knew he had died saving her life. The stranger turned and sprung back to her as she sat next to Jamie, staring at his blood soaked hair and clothes. He met her in the grass, both of them now on their knees, next to Jamie.

"Are you all right?" he asked, grasping her shoulders, giving her a little shake, looking into her eyes. She nodded slowly.

"Is he alive?" she stammered, but she knew the answer before the dragon booted man shook his head. Then she saw the second body, where the stranger had come from, recognising him immediately, and a torrent of tears began to flow from her eyes. She was able to get to her feet with this stranger's support and approach the man as he lay in the damp grass, in the horrible stillness despite the chaos all around them; death all around them. With the stranger by her side, she kneeled by this man's head, stroking his dark hair and his pale cheek with her index finger.

"Did you know him?" he asked gently, kneeling beside her, touching her elbow. "Were you close?"

She nodded, and spoke through her tears. "He was married to my sister. He shouldn't have even been here. He told me to leave, and I wouldn't." She couldn't speak anymore through her anguish and enormous guilt, staring at his vacant eyes. She began to weep, her whole body shaking violently with her sobbing. The dragon booted stranger threw his arms around her and held her close to him, whispering in her ear and rubbing her back, and beginning to shed tears himself as their heads touched. He pushed her dark red hair away from her face, so their cheeks were touching. He continued to speak softly against her skin. When her tears finally quieted down, he tried to persuade her to come back to the Great Hall with him.

"It's not safe out here. I need to get back and find my brother. We were separated earlier in the battle, and I need to find him now that it's a bit quieter." She didn't want to leave her brother-in-law alone on the battlefield in the grass dampened by yesterday's rains and his own blood draining out of his body.

"It's okay," she said numbly, not meeting his eyes. "You go find your brother. I'll be along in a bit."

He hesitated to leave her, but knew he couldn't stay any longer. She seemed safe enough. The battle appeared to be over, but they had thought that before. He took a few steps away from her and towards the castle, but stopped and returned to her kneeling yet again, the dampness soaking into his knees. He grasped her arms with care.

"I can't leave you out here," he said kindly. "It's still unsafe. Come to the castle. Please. Don't make me drag you." There was a laugh in his voice, but when she ultimately met his eyes, she saw an intensity in his gaze that almost scorched her skin, and she couldn't help but look away.

"Please," he repeated, taking her hand.

She met his gaze once more and, with one more glance down at her brother-in-law, she rose with tears still in her eyes. He took her in his arms and held her against him for what seemed like a long time and then he took up her hand in his and led her to one of the secret entrances he had been guarding, leading her through the passage to the hallway just outside the Great Hall of Hogwarts. He squeezed her hand, then withdrew his, and striding into the din of the Hall, he left her in the relative quiet.

She stood where he had left her at the edge of the Entrance Hall, overwhelmed and speechless at the chaos going on around her. People were rushing around, bleeding, limping, carrying bodies into and out of the Great Hall. She wandered away and sat in one of the niches along the wall, her hands over her face. She knew she should really have been helping, but she couldn't bring herself to go in. She had seen the makeshift morgue on the dais where Headmaster Snape and her Head of House McGonagall had dinner each night for the past eight months.

She looked up suddenly. There was pandemonium. Voldemort was speaking again, and Harry Potter was dead. _Dead, did he say_? She rose and approached the front portcullis, where the students and teachers of Hogwarts were standing, shouting, ready to die defending. A man was on fire, but then he wasn't, and then the castle was filled with Death Eaters and Voldemort himself was killing people left and right as they filled the Great Hall and then Harry Potter wasn't dead and Voldemort was, and just like that it was over. Over.

It was an hour or so later when Rhia was finally able to enter the Great Hall. She immediately checked in with Professor McGonagall, and then proceeded to wander about aimlessly. She ended her trek around the perimeter, collapsing, head down on the Gryffindor table. The sword of Gryffindor was at the other end with the man who earlier had been on fire. She left her head on the table for a brief moment, and then lifted it to survey the rest of the cavernous room. As her eyes searched the hall, a shock of red hair on the floor nearby caught her attention.

It was the man; the man who helped her, who had saved her out in the grounds. He was dead. He lay on the floor, still, pale, his red hair brightly glowing against the gray stone beneath him. She began to whimper and moved closer to him. A young woman, another redhead, was sitting next to him, holding one of his hands. Rhia recognized her from her House. She was a sixth-year while Rhia was a seventh, but Rhiannon had only recently come to Hogwarts this term when the Ministry mandated attendance for all Pureblood families. She thought her name was Ginny, and Rhia joined her on the floor, lifting the dead man's other hand to her mouth, kissing it gently and as she stroked his hair, and brushing it out of his face, she began to weep quietly.

The young woman said nothing, but looked at Rhia strangely. A man spoke as approaching footsteps stopped behind her. "I didn't know you knew my brother."

Without looking up, she replied, shaking her head, "I didn't know him. He rescued me… out in the grounds; on the battlefield… about an hour ago."

Ginny interjected harshly, "That's not possible. He's been dead for almost three."

Rhia looked at her as though she were mad, but before she could respond, the man behind her spoke again, in a whisper, "I helped you."

"Don't be daft. I know who brought me to the castle. I'm telling you that it was him." She was irritated with this man, and as she spoke, she turned to face him, but she saw his black boots first. Her mouth fell open, gaping and as her eyes followed the boots to the base of his jeans and up his leg, past his waist and chest, she found his face, a sad grimace settling on his lips. As their eyes met, she felt the intensity of his gaze upon her again, now much sadder and she gasped, nearly dropping the hand she was holding.

"You're twins!" she exclaimed, stating the now obvious. "You're the one who helped me?"

"I'm the one who helped you." Their eyes remained locked as the tall black-booted stranger nodded his head. Her mouth was still open in astonishment. She looked down now at the dead man whose hand she still held, and then gently placed it on his chest, stroking the back of his hand for a moment. She rose, jumping into her rescuer's arms, startling him. She threw hers around his neck, and hugged him tightly.

"I thought you'd died!" she cried out as one or two tears trickled down her cheek. She ran tender fingers through his hair and traced his ears, discovering that he had only one. She moved to touch his face with her gentle hands and surprised them both when she stepped up on her toes to kiss him on his face. It was so close to his lips that he had to catch his breath in surprise from the intimacy of it. They stared into each other's eyes for another moment, and in the next one, his arms went around her waist, and he was kissing her.

As their mouths met and he pulled her closer to his body, he could feel every curve against him, and soon their tongues became familiar, and when it ended they were both winded and slightly embarrassed. Ginny sat there, open-mouthed now, in shocked silence. He rested his forehead on hers and he was breathing heavily into her hair. The flowery smell of her was intoxicating to him. He glanced over at his dead twin just below them, and he inhaled another deep breath of her hair.

He led her away, to another nearby table.

"You're hurt," she noticed.

"I'm fine. Wait for me," he instructed her.

She nodded, and he returned to his family, kneeling next to his dead brother and his bewildered sister. He spoke quietly to them and then he rejoined Rhia, taking her hand and ushering her from the Great Hall. They walked in silence, neither one attempting to speak or to release the other one's hand from their grasp. There was some strange bond between them, like a wand spark bouncing back and forth linking them. She recognised the path they were taking, which was leading them to Gryffindor tower. As they arrived at the entry, the portrait was already open to them. They found no one else in the common room. They were alone and they sat together, she on his lap in one of the comfy chairs by the darkened fireplace. She noticed another deep scrape on his neck that travelled below his shirt line, and she traced it delicately with her finger. "You should see a Healer about this cut. It could become infected."

"I'm fine," he said tonelessly. "My brother's dead. He died before I had even found you."

She remained silent, nodding and letting him continue to talk if that helped him, but she began to open the buttons of his shirt, examining his cut. The lower the cut went, Rhia saw that it was deeper than it appeared near his neck, and she touched it again with tender fingers, causing his skin to tingle. He shifted in the chair each time she pressed a finger against his wound. "I'm training to be a Healer. I could heal this if you'd prefer not to go to the infirmary."

He didn't respond for a time, and when she unbuttoned the last of his buttons and drew his shirt apart, he inhaled a deep breath, looking at her longingly, and she wasn't surprised when he took her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply. He stood up, forcing her from his lap. "I think there's a first aid kit upstairs in the dormitories. I'll be right back down."

He continued to look at her as he moved towards the dormitory entrance, but paused when she spoke and was suddenly at his side.

"I'll go with you." She glanced back to the common room. "I don't want to be alone in here."

She took his hand, letting him guide her up the dormitory stairs. They travelled up all of the stairs to the top of the tower. This was the seventh year dorm, and it was the last place he had lived before moving to Diagon Alley. He found the kit easily enough in the cabinet under the wood stove, and handed it to her. While she saw to its contents, he sat on the bed with the opened scarlet curtains and took off his shirt and his boots, fingering the hanging fabric of the four poster bed, staring at the same coloured fabric on the bed adjacent to this one.

She sat beside him on the bed, kneeling, cleaning his wound and using her wand to knit his skin together. He grimaced with each flick, but it took very little time for it to be completely healed.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. His lip was quivering. He looked into her eyes triggering powerful feelings in her. He remained silent, simply looking at her face as she packed up the first aid supplies. It seemed like a long time before he spoke. "I can't believe he's gone. I just can't –"

She touched his cheek with the palm of her hand, and when he looked at her again, she rested it on his shoulder. She smiled sadly at him, her eyes also becoming moist.

"I'm so sorry about your brother."

"I've never been apart from him. Never."

"I'm so sorry. I…I was so relieved…that it wasn't you. I was frightened when I saw you dead on the floor. I mean…him…I mean…that doesn't make any sense." She smiled, "I was just so relieved. I know that must sound just awful. He's your brother after all –" Tears began to spring into her eyes and she couldn't suppress a sniffle. He used one thumb to wipe away a few tears, but they were still flowing, and his own had just started up again as well. He leaned towards her and kissed the corner of her eye and then one tear and then another. Her tears were salty, and they made him crave her even more. He kept his hands in his lap, but he pressed his lips against hers, and when she responded to his tender kisses with her tongue, his passion for her flared up at once and took hold of him. He went to grab her, but he pulled away all of a sudden, and he looked at her.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked softly

She smiled. "You probably say that to all the girls who point wands at your chest."

He grinned. "Not really." He procured the wand gently from her hand, placing it on the bedside table. She surveyed his face as he reached across her, and when she realized he wasn't wearing a shirt, she looked down at his wispy red hairs and shadowy freckles dotting his chest and arms and face. She touched one freckle on his shoulder and then traced a few more across his collarbone until he took her hands in his, and he kissed her again.

"Stay with me. Will you stay here with me?" he murmured when their lips separated again. His eyes darted towards the bed that they were sitting on, and when she wordlessly touched his face and neck again and pressing her hand over his heart, he reached out and energetically pulled her tee shirt over her head. His eyes widened and he grinned at her. He was pleasantly surprised to see that she hadn't been wearing anything underneath it and the sight of her marvellous round breasts and firm nipples took his breath away. He pushed her down on the bed and caressed her neck with his lips and his tongue as he climbed on top of her. He sighed into her ear as their chests touched and he could feel her bare skin against him. He easily positioned himself on her and looked into her eyes, making sure that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His hand slid along the curves he had bared, across her smooth stomach, catching his thumb in her waistband. He soon realized that he didn't need her eyes to give him permission.

She very quickly put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. They both fumbled hastily with their own jeans and pants, and when they were both naked, he got on top of her again, simply sliding his tongue into her mouth. She hungrily wrapped her legs around him and he slowly slid inside her. She gasped at first, but when he went to move away, afraid he'd hurt her, she clung to him tightly, not letting him leave her. Her fingers coiled in his hair, and she drew his head down to hers, their lips meeting again. She bit her lip and she breathed forcefully into his mouth almost crying out, pulling his hair as he thrust into her again, but she wouldn't let him stop, lifting her hips to meet his. After a few unsteady moments, they were both rocking in a steady motion up and down, back and forth.

He was enthusiastically nibbling her neck and taking mouthfuls of her breasts, occasionally chewing lightly on her nipples, commenting now and then about how she felt around him and how beautiful she was. She was kissing him, and touching him, and when she accidentally bit his ear harder than she had planned, he cried out in mock pain.

"Easy," he laughed. "I've only got one of those." She laughed and bit him again, this time much more gently, tracing the outline of his ear with her tongue. She grinned against his ear as he moaned against her breast. His rocking motions inside her were becoming faster and more urgent and when she moaned in obvious delight, he was gratified. He kissed her through his own peak, and he shuddered and collapsed on top of her. They lay there, unable to detach themselves, panting, hot and sweaty and satiated.

He rolled off and lay down next to her, moulding his body to hers and as he adjusted the covers around their bodies. He kissed the back of her neck and put his arms around hers, resting them on her stomach as his chest pressed against her back. She covered his hands with her own and they held hands, lying comfortably together for moments that they both knew would be all too short. When they had sufficiently caught their breath, they looked at each other, a bit sheepishly. He wanted to say something, but she spoke first.

"It's okay," she said, amused. He nodded his head, and resting it on her shoulder, he nibbled her neck a bit more.

"Hang on," she laughed. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"What makes you think I can't finish?" he smiled, pressing his hips into her arse, nibbling once more at the back of her neck, but he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was: they needed to return to the Great Hall. She slid her pendant from her neck, and twisted her body to put it over his head.

"I want you to have this," she said, smiling, giving him her talisman. "My father gave it to me. It's a Welsh green dragon. He used to play for the national team."

"I can't –"

"Of course, you can. You saved my life. It's a small token." She very delicately caressed his face. "You can remember me when you look at it," she said, eyes shining.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly. She nodded, but he added, "It's a bit personal."

"That's okay," she laughed, looking at the rumpled bedcovers surrounding them. "You can ask me anything."

"It's crazy, but what's your name?"

She laughed and shook her head in disbelief at the madness of it. She put out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Rhiannon Jones."

He took her hand gently in his and kissed the back of it and then the palm and then he found her mouth again.

"I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm George Weasley."

After they returned to the Great Hall, they stood together in the entryway, finding their friends and families, and then they parted with a long kiss neither would soon forget. Rhiannon watched George Weasley return to his family, and she smiled when he turned to glance at her one more time before settling on the floor at his twin's head, his knees touching his brother's hair.

The sun was rising in the sky now in a new world, and soon everyone would know what they had done; the miracle and the sacrifice that had happened at Hogwarts.


	2. Life Goes On?

Life was beginning to return to normal for most people. For the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and those directly involved in the battles, it was taking a little longer. The Ministry continued to be swamped, sorting out loyal employees from misguided ones, Death Eaters from those truly Imperiused. Death Eaters went into hiding once again, but many were hiding in plain sight, both at the Ministry and in the private sector. For those people who lost someone close, moving on had not been easy. For George Weasley, the only reason he was managing to function in this new world was because his family expected it of him as would his dead twin.

Each morning, when he looked at his reflection in the café windows, it was becoming less recognizable. He ran his palm over his stubbly beard, growing thicker each day. He only shaved it now when he saw his mum, and that was only because he knew that if he didn't, she would. He looked ghastly, so unlike his brother, who was now ghostly. He grimaced at the play on words happening inside his head. He didn't find anything funny anymore, but he had to keep the joke shop running. It was less fun and more work and his pathetic silent attempt at humour was also ghastly.

Fred was dead, and he would have expected no less than for George to move on. George knew that Fred would have done this living thing much better. George also knew that if the shop floundered, it would obviously be all his fault. He could never let that happen. The shop needed to continue. He could not disappoint his brother. He might be dead, but he would not be disappointed. The shop would continue to succeed, and he would honour Fred's memory by continuing on, however reluctantly. He just had to pull himself together like everyone else was doing.

He looked around at some of those people. Ollivander's remained closed, but Diagon Alley was slowly returning to its usual splendour. The ice cream shop adjacent to his shop had recently reopened with Mr. Fortescue's nephew as the new owner. Quinn Fortescue was a decent bloke, and George thought he might have his eye on Verity, George's skilled assistant. A new coffee shop had also opened only a few spaces away from both of their shops. It was here that George sat every morning drinking one cup of coffee while he looked at his second cup cooling. The decor was quite offensive to the eye –brightly coloured tables with matching chairs and umbrellas –orange, lime green, fuchsia, yellow, turquoise.

_What was wrong with ordinary blue?_ George wondered, but they had really great coffee. Each of George's mornings began the same way – shower, check the till, check the inventory, pop to the café for a cup of strong black coffee, usually two or more.

Today, he sat at the table he usually did – the most offensively coloured table – fuchsia. This was the colour that most clashed with his bright red hair and his magenta work robes, and he loved the odd stare or two he would get as people saw the colours blend into each other, causing their eyes to water from the assault of repulsive colours all in one place. One elderly woman was looking at him, mouth agape, and nearly collided with a trolley filled with parcels for the animal shop. George smiled at her and nodded his head in greeting, and soon returned to sipping his coffee. He waved at a few of the other merchants he knew from the alley, many of them new here, replacing the dead or maimed.

He was, as usual, slightly hung-over. He could barely remember the night before. He woke up half in his bed, half on the floor, fully clothed and smelling hideously of his late day meal mixed in with firewhisky and bitter. He seemed to recall a woman's involvement, but he was sure Lee got him home in one piece, his wand still intact.

His head throbbed as he started on his second cup of coffee. Taking a sip, he became distracted by a loud argument two tables over. The raised voices drew his attention away from his daily sightseeing and people watching. He turned towards the voices coming from the yellow table, hearing the argument but not understanding the language. The man had a beard and wild hair that was a deep shade of red, almost matching the woman's and his face was contorted in rage. Their voices were becoming increasingly louder.

George squinted, focusing on the woman, recognising her straight away from the battle at Hogwarts. He sat up straight in his seat, now paying closer attention, but still not understanding their language. She appeared slightly different, shorter hair, more tired-looking, but he was positive that she was the one. He didn't remember her having an unusual accent, although to be fair they hadn't talked that much. What was that language?

She was sitting very still compared to the man, who was moving his hands about in a very energetic way. _What was her name?_ George wondered, racking his memory. He still couldn't understand them, but the man was yelling at her and she appeared to be crying. George reached under his shirt collar, running a finger over the outline of his dragon pendant, and the name on the tip of his tongue was now whispering in his head: Rhiannon Jones.

Yes, he remembered now, Rhiannon Jones. He smiled fondly at his recollection and watched them with interest. George was actually staring at them, but they were too engrossed in their row to notice him. George lifted his coffee cup to take another drink, but faltered; flinching as the large bearded man suddenly drew back his arm and slapped her powerfully across the face. George saw her head all but bounce from the hard impact.

He saw her put her palm up to her injured cheek, and at the same time, the man grabbed her other arm, yanking her halfway out of the chair, causing her to cry out, in fear or pain, he did not know. George leapt to his feet, dropping the cup, coffee spilling onto the cobblestones. He hastened over to the yellow table, grabbing the man from behind, startling them both. Turning him around, George shoved the man away from her.

"Don't touch her again!" he snarled

Rhia was still holding her cheek and the bearded man looked from George to Rhia, and spoke now in English. "Is this him? Is this the man?"

Rhia looked him in the eye, not looking at George at all, and answered, "I don't know what you mean. I've never seen him before."

Looking at her again, the man said something else in their other language, and then he stalked away. Rhia began to tremble as she burst into silent tears, sobbing quietly. George wasn't sure what to do, so he simply put an arm around her and led her to his table, helping her into a chair. He left her there, but was back in a flash with two new cups of coffee.

"How do you like your coffee – black or white?"

She stopped sobbing, and reached for the white one.

"Is there sugar?" she asked, so softly it was almost a whisper.

He borrowed the bowl of cubes from the adjacent table, and he watched as she put in six. He smiled. He began to speak to her, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I'm George Weasley," he introduced himself. "You may not remember me, but we have met."

She got a stricken look on her face, paling and tearing up again. "I remember you, George Weasley. I could never forget you." She smiled shyly at him, then looked down.

"I'm sorry I said that. I just didn't want my brother to know who you were. I wasn't sure actually that you'd remember me. I've cut my hair and gained a bit of weight since Hogwarts."

"You look beautiful."

She felt her other cheek warm as she blushed and continued to look at her hands that had settled in her lap once more.

"I should go," she sniffled. "I need to…find a place to stay. Perhaps they have room at the Leaky."

"To stay?"

"Yes." She began to cry again as she spoke. "I've been chucked out of my house."

"Why?"

"I'm–" She gave George a desperate look. She wanted to tell him, and when he appeared so concerned and then took her hand so tenderly, she couldn't help but to burst into hysterical sobs again.

"I'm not ready to talk about it. Not yet. I have to go," she repeated, rising from the fuchsia chair. She fumbled in a small pouch and pulled out a few coins, placing them on the table with shaking hands, refusing to allow George to pay for her coffee. Before he could protest, Rhia was struggling to right her trunk and pull it awkwardly down the cobbled stones of the Alley. The trunk was just like the ones everyone brought to Hogwarts, but she had a wheeled contraption strapped to it, presumably to make it easier to move along.

She hadn't gotten more than a few metres when she felt a hand on her shoulder, gentle but firmly stopping her departure. She turned and looked once again into George Weasley's intense gaze. She bit her lip.

"I…I have a spare bed in my flat. It's above my shop, right here in the Alley. You could stay there for a few days, and use it until you come up with another solution. How does that sound?" he asked gently, his hand moving down her arm, holding her elbow. When she didn't answer, he continued, "I've been really lonely without my brother there. I promise I won't try to get you into my bed."

She grinned at him and taking hold of his extended hand, she followed him down the lane. He knew he was late in opening, but he still paused, looking at Rhia, and added, "Unless you want to get back into my bed." She blushed again as he arched his eyebrow until it was hidden under the fringe covering his forehead. They arrived at his doorstep only moments later, and as he noticed a crowd gathering in front of his shop, he used his wand to open the door to the swarm of potential pranksters. While they browsed, he settled Rhia in the back room where he kept his office.

"I'll show you upstairs in a while; just let me settle the crowd down until my assistant gets here." She nodded, and put her head on his desk. _Just for a moment_ , she thought, but before she knew it, she was asleep.

When George eventually returned to his office, he found Rhia, still asleep with her head on his desk, the papers under her mouth moist. He touched her shoulder causing her to tremble and he grinned. Her hair covered her face, and when he easily scooped her up, the shoulder length strands slapped his face as her head bounced against his shoulder while he carried her up the staircase to his flat. He laid her carefully on his dishevelled bedcovers and covered her with a tattered patchwork quilt. He watched her sleep peacefully for a few moments, brushing the hair back from her face once more, stopping short though of actually touching her skin, which he remembered being warm and smooth. When she let out a quiet moan, and kicked the blanket off, he let his eyes stray along her still clothed body, grinning at his memories, pulling the blanket back up over her before turning to leave.

He glanced sadly at Fred's bed, now a huge pile of clothes and the odds and ends of Fred's gear; Fred's life, completely covering it, obscuring the bed itself, a tiny bit of wood sticking out; Fred's wand left behind; much like his brother. He looked at Rhia again before hurrying down the stairs to the sales floor.

"You look tired," Verity commented when he joined her behind the counter. "Rough night?"

"Honestly?" He shrugged. "I don't remember much except waking up half on the floor upstairs."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Were you naked again?"

He smirked. "Sorry you missed it?"

She shook her head with a laugh. "Cheers, but no."

He laughed. "I was dressed, actually."

"You should stop."

"Stop what?" He paused his Galleon counting to look at her sideways.

"Drinking, George. You're going to kill yourself."

"Will you keep the shop open if I do?"

"It's not funny."

"Everything's funny."

"Not that." Verity glared at him, opening the box of trick wands on the counter in front of her and carrying them over to their place across the shop, away from George. They worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon, and they were both glad when time came for closing and George locked Verity out. He waved as she turned into the ice cream shop next door. She had a sudden sweet tooth as of late.

George ran up the stairs noisily, forgetting about his lovely houseguest until he reached the top most step, and saw her sitting on the bed, cross-legged, staring down at her hands in her lap.

"Sorry," he muttered, and not waiting for a response, stepped into his kitchen and fumbled around the cupboards getting something prepared to eat.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked, as he tossed some bits of leftover chicken into the hot fry pan and pushed them around with a long wooden spoon. He raised his wand, pointing at various lanterns and candles, quietly saying the incantation to light them. He glanced over at Rhia who hadn't moved.

"Hungry?" he asked. She still hadn't responded to him, staring at her hands as she twisted them in her lap. He used his wand to set the spoon stirring on its own and the proper temperature in the pan and walked over to his bed. Kneeling beside it, he touched Rhia's knee.

"Are you hungry?"

She shook her head, still staring at her lap, and now biting her lip. "You really should eat something," he said, looking up into her face, trying to make eye contact.

She shook her head. "I'll eat tomorrow," she said, quietly, rubbing her thumbs together, not looking at him.

He rose, but instead of leaving, he sat on the bed, and touching her hand first, wrapped his fingers around her palm.

"Do you want to talk; about anything?" She shook her head again, and began to cry again. He placed an arm around her shoulders as she sobbed. He started to rub her shoulders and she drooped over, letting her head fall into his lap. She was shaking from her sobs, and George could feel her tears dampening his jeans as he tried to comfort her, rubbing her back and her head. When her breathing changed, he realised that she had fallen asleep. He sat a moment longer and then slid out from under her, covering her with the quilt again and returned to the frying pan and his meal. While he ate, George absentmindedly fingered the dragon around his neck and glanced at Rhia, wondering what she could possibly have done that was so horrible to be thrown out of her house.

Rhia opened her eyes slowly, becoming mildly distressed when she realised she didn't know where she was. She was lying in a bed, underneath a slanted ceiling she hadn't noticed until she sat up suddenly, crying out in pain when she thumped her head. Falling back down onto the bed, her eyes stung with new tears. She lay on her back, hand over her queasy stomach, panting slightly and begins to weep. George's head popped up from the underside of the bed.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," she said curtly. "Are you sleeping on the floor?" she added, as she quickly remembered who he was and now where she was.

He grinned in the moonlight and asked again if she were all right.

"I just forgot where I was." She lay her head down once more on the soft pillow, which smelled of citrus. "Why are you on the floor? I thought you had a spare bed." He lay down again, so she could not see him anymore, not answering. "George?"

"I do have a spare bed, but…it's Fred's, and right now it's covered with his stuff, so no one can sleep there."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me as well."

They lay in their respective 'beds' letting the silence overtake them, but neither could get back to sleep. Rhia stared around his flat. It was dark, even with the bits of moonlight peeking in through the two small windows. She could make out the second bed just across the floor from where she was, as well as two bedside tables divided by a bookshelf between them. There was a chair that looked out of place, but then she could see George's legs propped up on it, and realized that he was sleeping in that awkward position.

"George."

"Yes, Rhiannon."

"Call me Rhia."

"Yes, Rhia."

"Where's your loo?"

"Oh, sorry." She could hear the blush creep up his neck and in his voice. "It's that door right there." He fumbled around and he cursed as he bashed his head, shaking her bed. He pointed his wand, mumbling something and the next thing she knew, the light in the toilet turned itself on. "It's a bit of a mess, but I'll clean it in the morning."

"I can help," she said, getting up from the bed, making her way carefully to the toilet. George could hear her crying through the door as she used the toilet, but said nothing about it when she returned to the bed. She slid her jeans off, dropping them to the floor and slipped under the covers. "How did I get up here? I was sitting in your office."

"You fell asleep. I carried you up. You must have been exhausted. You don't remember tea?"

"I ate something?"

"No, but you were awake, and…" George drifted off.

"And what?"

"You were upset and you…um…cried until you fell asleep. You barely stirred when I first put you in the bed."

"You can't sleep on the floor, George," Rhia said suddenly. "I won't allow it –"

"You won't allow it? It's my flat and I'll sleep where I like. Thank you very much. Anyway, the chair's not comfortable for me to sleep on. I'm too tall."

"There's room up here. You can sleep in the bed, George. Please."

He lifted his head so he could see her. She was lying on her back, eyes closed, fingers entwined over her stomach, most of her body under the covers. "With you?" he asked, voice teasing, eyebrows rising.

She turned, looking at him with puffy eyes, red and moist, smiling thinly. She reached one hand out and patted the empty space on his bed. "Please don't sleep on the floor. I feel guilty enough."

He finally nodded as he joined her in his bed after only a moment's hesitation, laying as close to the edge as he could without falling off. It was odd. He had this beautiful woman in his bed, he was actually sober, and yet he was slightly unnerved. He knew that she would not take kindly to any serious snogging right now. Still, he was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He tried to ignore the sensations he was beginning to feel inside them, but he quickly threw the covers over his waist and bare legs despite the near stifling condition of the flat. He reached across, moving some hair off her face and smiled.

"Better now?"

She returned his smile. "Yes. I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. I don't want to be an inconvenience for you."

"Well, I did tell you we'd end up in bed together," he smirked. They both laughed, and the sound was nice in both of their ears. For George, there hadn't been much laughter in this flat, and it felt good.

"Good night."

After a time, they both got used to the other one being in the bed and finally, George could hear Rhia's soft breathing and a light snore that he found particularly endearing. He hadn't seen her in nearly two months, but he still felt a tremendous connection to this woman. She was beautiful, and he was unbelievably attracted to her, but the disagreement with her brother was weighing heavily on his mind. He fumed when he thought of her being struck by that man. He didn't know why, but his protective feelings were rising for her, as well as other feelings. He simply couldn't understand why a brother would treat his sister that way, nor could he imagine what she did to be thrown out of her family's house. He touched her cheek one more time before he fell asleep, hearing her breathe out a sigh at his touch.

When he awoke next, there was sunlight spilling onto his face. Somewhere in the night, they had become wrapped around each other, limbs entangled together. He could feel her soft legs, smooth and warm against his own. Her head rested against his chest and he could feel his hairs stand up with each exhalation. Her hair was in his face and it smelled of flowers. He remembered the last time her hair was in his face and warm thoughts spread through him. He heard her breathing change and knew she was waking as well. He looked down at her face as her eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," he said, quietly, smiling charmingly at her.

She smiled wanly at him, and then suddenly was pushing him aside roughly, kicking the covers off and leaping from the bed as though it were afire. She crashed into the toilet door, letting it slam behind her. George sat up perplexed, and feeling slightly letdown. Then, he heard her retching and the splashing sound of solids forcefully hitting water. She was moaning and crying and cursing in another language as the splashing continued. When it finally ceased, he heard the toilet flush and the shower running. He lay down, keeping the covers off and when he heard the running water finish, he rose from the bed.

He was fumbling around the kitchen when she emerged from her bath, wrapped snugly in a towel, hair wet with water dripping down her silky skin, puddling at first and then dissolving into the top of the towel. Her curves distracted him and he dropped an egg on the floor, gaping. He bent over to clean it up, muttering something to himself that she couldn't quite hear.

"Can I help?" she called over the counter.

"No. Cheers. Do you want eggs?"

"No. I don't think my stomach can take eggs. Do you have toast?"

"Sure. I can make some."

She remained in the towel, drip drying as they shared a quiet breakfast, and when George went into the shower, Rhia opened her trunk, trying to find something suitable to wear. She put on yesterday's clothes under the bed covers as she made the bed. She neatly folded the afghan that George had left on the floor where he slept half the night, and placed it at the edge of the bed. She finished fastening the buttons of her favourite sage shirt and pulled up her jeans, having a bit of trouble getting the waist closed.

"Shite," she muttered. "Just please last me a bit longer," she hissed.

"Talking to yourself?"

She frowned. She hadn't heard the bathroom door open or George as he stepped out into the flat until he spoke from behind her.

"You should get used to it. I do that a lot. After all, no one else really matches my wit and intellect."

"Except me," he replied.

"Arrogant."

"Confident. There's a difference."

She returned to the kitchen, giving him a tad more privacy so he could take a turn at getting dressed. George didn't seem to mind walking around naked in front of her, but when their eyes met, hers having presently completed their wanderings over his fit legs and his firm muscled torso, he suddenly turned his back to her. This didn't exactly help the warmness she was beginning to feel as her heart beat a trace faster and she tightened her knees closed. He had been standing, holding his pants and jeans in one hand; shirt in the other and then their eyes locked and they both swiftly turned away.

She sipped her tea, still warm from their breakfast, trying not to choke on it.

"Thank you," she began in a quiet tone, "for letting me spend the night. I should be out of your hair by tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. I thought I'd go to the Leaky and get a room. They're usually pretty flexible on timetable and I'll need to find a job today as well."

"You don't have to go, you know."

"I need to find a new home. I can't impose on you forever."

"Who said anything about forever? Anyway, it's not imposing if I insist. I already told you I'm lonely without Fred. I'm not used to being alone for such long periods of time."

She looked away. "I'll think about it, all right?"

"That's all I'm asking." He tossed her a cardboard square as they descended the stairs from his flat to the shop. "Can you put this in the window on your way out?" He left Rhia at the stock room curtain to join the blonde woman behind the counter. The shop was already open. George's assistant had opened it upon her arrival, and there were a few customers milling over by the counter.

"Sure," she called back, placing it in the window and then exiting the joke shop. George watched her walk down the alley wondering if she would be back. He laughed softly. Of course, she'll be back – her trunk was still upstairs.

Rhia put her bag on her back and rushed down the cobblestones towards the Leaky Cauldron. She paused to glance at her watch.

"Bloody hell," she cursed. She was going to be late. She ran through the Leaky and out the door to the Muggle world. Running up the street she grabbed a black cab, handing him an address: 42 Appleby Lane. They arrived minutes later and she paid him with a £10 note. She took the stairs two at a time, and met the receptionist with a wary smile. She filled out the forms and when they called her name, she hesitated, looking around. Surely, no one knew her here, but she was still anxious.

She followed the woman carrying a clipboard, and when she was alone in the seemingly sanitary room, she took her clothes off and put on the dressing gown. She had been directed to urinate into a tiny plastic cup, which she deposited into a small compartment in the wall, and then returned to the sterility of the first room. She had never felt so lonely; the way she did right now, sitting on the crisp white paper of the exam table, naked save for her paper gown. There were machines and equipment all around the small room that Rhia did not recognise. There were watercolour pictures on the walls and on the ceiling. They were still, stationary, like most things in the Muggle world. There was a chair and a desk covered in papers. Even the telephone was covered in papers. There was also a keyboard on the desk, but Rhia didn't understand why. It looked like a musical instrument. She didn't understand as much about the Muggle world as she thought she did.

There was a perfunctory knock, and then the door was pushed open before Rhia could respond. A short plump woman with a round face and glasses entered. She was reading a folder of even more papers and she stuffed her glasses into one of the pockets of her crisp white jacket. Everything here was crisp and white. Well, except for the watercolours. The woman stuck out her hand, shaking Rhia's.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs. Jones. I'm Doctor McFadden. Lay down please."

Rhia obeyed as the doctor washed her hands and then began the exam. Rhia shivered as her breasts were bared by the doctor for the examination, pushing, prodding, rubbing circles, squeezing her nipples. She said something about possible leaking and that it was to be expected. She was covered abruptly and was startled as the doctor moved down, inserting two fingers into her vagina and pressing down on her abdomen. Rhia shuddered, almost crying out as her thighs tightened and her feet were pained from pushing them so hard against the stirrups. Soon, the doctor was done and washing her hands again. Rhia had never had a medical exam like this at St. Mungo's.

Rhia just lay there flat on her back, too dazed to move or speak.

"Everything seems fine. Your urinalysis came back positive. Judging by the answers you gave on your intake form, you're about eight weeks pregnant, so you're still due around the sixth of February. I'd like to see you again in four or five weeks unless you encounter any problems." Rhia nodded numbly. "Would you like to take a peek at your baby; perhaps a listen?"

Rhia sat up on her elbows to look at the doctor. She was so surprised by the doctor's offer that she had forgotten that she was practically naked, clutching at the paper gown as it fell open. "Really? You can do that?"

The doctor had a funny look on her face. "Of course. Lie down again. This will feel a bit odd." The doctor took what looked like a large wand that was attached to the very large machine adjacent to the bed. Rhia gazed open-mouthed in amazement. The doctor gently helped Rhia lay down again, and pushed the wand-like instrument into her vagina, and began to move it about inside of her. Rhia squirmed some. It was wet and cold. It was very uncomfortable.

"Look here at the monitor." Doctor McFadden directed Rhia's attention to the screen. There was a picture there all of a sudden. The doctor began to point to various places on the screen. "There's your uterus, and this round sac is the placenta," she said. "Do you see this round egg shaped thing; the one that's moving?" Rhia nodded. "That's your baby. That's your baby's heart beating. Do you want to hear it?"

Rhia looked from the screen to the doctor's face, and then returned her eyes to the screen as she nodded her head. The doctor pushed a few buttons, and then Rhia heard it. It sounded like a drum she heard once at a street fair her father had taken her to. Rum-bum-bum. Rum-bum-bum. Rhia smiled. She didn't think she had ever heard anything so beautiful in her whole life. A tear or two slipped past her eyelashes and she realised that she was holding her breath. She released the sigh, and licked her lips. They were so dry.

The doctor smiled at Rhia's reaction. She loved first time mums. The doctor pushed another button, and Rhia heard a tearing sound. She was still staring at her baby's heartbeat, and listened, but then the machine was turned off and the moment was over.

"Well, that's odd," the doctor said, bringing Rhia out of her baby daydream.

"What's that?" Rhia asked concerned.

"Well, I can't be sure. We'll be able to tell next month."

"Sure about what?" Rhia wiped her wet eyes.

"No worries," she said, patting Rhia's knee. "It could be anything, even a shadow on the monitor. It's nothing to worry about," the doctor smiled gently. "That happens sometimes. We'll check it next time as the baby gets bigger." She pulled the wand out from Rhia's body and Rhia heard the slurping sound of a plunger being released.

The doctor handed her a scrap of smooth paper, and Rhia dressed and left. She strolled aimlessly down the avenue, deciding to walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. It can't have been that far. She stopped at a grassy area with a bench, sitting, staring at the passing traffic, focusing on nothing in particular. She was still clutching the paper, and it was only now that she looked at it. Her eyes widened and she was finally able to smile. It was the same picture that had appeared on the monitor. Her baby's heartbeat. This was a stationary picture, but she could still hear the heartbeat in her head. Rum-bum-bum. She carefully concealed the still picture in her purse and proceeded back to Diagon Alley and her temporary home.

Stopping by Gringott's, she discovered that her account was nearly empty, so she took it all – five galleons, two sickles, three knuts. Well, that was enough to offer George some kind of compensation for his room and board – perhaps worth a week. As she entered the joke shop, the square of cardboard caught her eye, but before she could look at it properly, George was speaking to her, so she closed the front door and directed her attention fully on him and his words.

"Any luck?" he was asking.

She shook her head.

"Too bad. Maybe you'll find something tomorrow." She nodded.

"I'm going up for a lie down."

As he nodded, she walked towards the stock room, but stopped, standing like an idiot in the middle of the doorway, halfway between shop and stock room, the magenta curtain resting on her hand and draping over her shoulder. She whirled, looking at George, who was now ignoring her, and looked at the front window. She rushed to it, grabbing the cardboard sign she had placed there this morning and turning it over in her hand, reading the large orange letters: HELP WANTED –ENQUIRE WITHIN. She smirked and slapped the sign on the countertop in front of George, letting her hands rest across her chest.

"Is that the sign I put there this morning?"

He nodded, but didn't look at her. He was obviously trying to suppress a laugh.

"Is the position still available, Mr. Weasley?"

He nodded again. "You can start tomorrow. Ten galleons a week."

"Bastard!" she laughed.

She walked through the curtain and heard him call after her, "That's no way to speak to your new superior."

"Superior, my arse," she muttered, climbing the stairs with a laugh. When she kicked the shoes off of her tired feet, she found a set of magenta robes laid out on her bed. She ran her fingers over her embroidered name and smiled. Maybe she was home after all. She lay down on the bed, wrapping her arms around her new work robes, almost hugging them, resting one hand on her stomach; on her little one.


	3. First Day at Work

Rhia entered the shop from behind the office curtain. She paused to brush off her new magenta robes, plucking a piece of fluff from her name.  George smiled at her as she briefly met his look before looking down at her shoes. He was leaning his back against the front of the counter while the blonde woman stood behind him, laughing seemingly at something he had just said.

"Feeling better?" he asked. Rhia nodded, feeling the colour sneak back into her pale cheeks, looking up again. She ran a hand over her queasy stomach as she approached them at the counter.

"Rhiannon Jones, I don't believe you've met Verity Cooper. She's been with us…um…me…since we opened two and a half years ago.  I don't know what we'd do…what I'd do…without her."

"Oh George," Verity sighed modestly.

"Verity, this is Rhia. She'll be working here, helping us out a bit.  Not sure what she's good at yet, so we'll have to try her out in a few different positions." Rhia blushed at his wink as she extended her hand to Verity, who grasped it, politely smiling.

"Since your stomach's a bit off, maybe the afternoon shift will do you better than the morning, so Verity and I will continue to open and I'll be closing – with your help." He took her hand, adding, "Let me show you around."

A surge of energy shot through her when he touched her hand with his fingertips, and she involuntarily shuddered and pulled her hand away. She looked down at the floor biting her lip, hoping he didn't notice her nervousness. She followed him for a few more paces, but in looking down at the tiled floor, she walked into his back, bouncing back a step.

George stopped walking and turning to face her, he tilted her face up with one finger. He could still make out the bruise on her cheek from her brother's hand the day before. He traced it with his thumb, frowning, but that soon changed to a sympathetic smile.

"These are the trick wands." She looked at the shelf he had indicated. They were now standing directly on the opposite side of the shop from where the counter was located.

"We have rubber ducks, squeaking mice, wands that squirt water, sprout flowers, grow ribbons. All the boxes should be labelled.  They're guaranteed for twenty-five changes. We don't do refunds. That was Fred's rule. Greedy bastard. If someone claims to have been hurt, you get me directly. No discounts. Except Harry Potter. Harry Potter doesn't pay. Not even my family gets a discount, and especially not Ron unless he works first."

Rhia was nodding as George rambled on.

"No one goes behind the curtain. No petting the pygmy puffs.  We're only open half days on Sundays, but closed the second day of each month until further notice."

"What's the second?"

George stopped straightening the exploding snitches, and spoke softly, "Hogwarts anniversary. My family visits Fred, and then we have tea at my parents' house. Even Charlie plans to come in from abroad and once he returns to Egypt, Bill's promised to come as well. We'll have to talk to McGonagall about Ginny, but…well, no matter. You'll meet everyone next week."

"I will?" she asked, her head darting up from the floor to look at him. "Of course. If you're staying in my flat, there won't be any tea when I go home to mum's."

"I can cook, you know," she said with a grin. "That's what the girls all say, but they're just interested in my pants."

"Are you suggesting that I'll be doing your laundry?"

He smiled at her sideways. "Do you do…laundry?"

"I might know a few spells I could teach you."

"Spells I have; I need someone to take care of my pants." He smiled and gestured, waving his hand at the shelves. "You just wander around today. Get to know the merchandise. Most of the products are original Weasleys, so you'll need to know their effects and antidotes. Some antidotes are sold separately."  Rhia nodded and George joined Verity behind the counter as the door chimed, and a group of customers entered, quiet at first, but as they looked at the goods and George set out a tray of sample sweets, the laughter began.

Rhia smiled, and did as George instructed, walking around; up and down the aisles, trying to see everything that the shop offered to its customers and potential pranksters. There was the fireworks line and the pet line which really only consisted of the pygmy puffs and some trained spiders. The largest one was named Ronniekins, and the others remained unnamed. She was fingering the extendable ears when the door chimed again. A woman and her young son were coming through the entrance, and Rhia stared at his dark hair, her mouth opened wide when she recognised him. As they turned in her direction, studying the shop for what was obviously their first time, Rhia ducked down just in time to avoid eye contact with them.

She was kneeling next to a sputtering joke cauldron, and Rhia tried to remember the quickest way to the stock room. She heard the boy's voice, high and shrill as he dragged his mum through the shop. Their voices grew louder as they approached Rhia's position. She scurried the opposite way and soon found herself able to slip into the stock room, unnoticed, but tripping, falling over a pile of decoy detonators that weren't there when she came down from the flat earlier.

These new clients were just outside the curtain. Sitting on the floor, brushing the dirt off of her new robes, Rhia could hear the boy pleading with his mother for a box of fireworks.

"For after the game, mam?"

"No, they're too much."

"Uncle Cel said –"

"Then your _ewythr_ can bring you back to buy them. Time to go. _Rwan_."  He knew better than to argue with his mother when she used that tone, and he took her hand and followed her to the door.

When Rhia heard the door chime again, she waited a moment and then re-emerged from the back room. Verity was watching her and speaking quietly to George. George glanced at the closing door, and then looked at Rhia, asking, "Everything all right?"

Rhia nodded. "There's so much to learn about here. You and Fred have quite the imagination." He smiled at her compliment; the first time smiling at the mention of his brother's name in nearly two months. He watched her disentangling herself from the kitchen apron hanging low from the ceiling, and laughed at the look on her face as she read the caption across the fabric, 'Ask me about my Whiz Bang.' She couldn't suppress her smile.  As she moved closer, she found a basket on the glass counter filled to the brim, containing pins with a variety of sayings on them.

_Bang or Whiz Bang. WWW. Love Potion #93. Have a daydream about me. A knut for your thoughts. Can you hear me now? No, Buy extendable ears. Weasley is our King. Gryffindors do it anywhere._

"Foff," she asked holding up a black one with white letters.

"That's a Muggle one," George answered.

"It's 'F' off."

"Oh," she nodded, but she still didn't quite get it.

"Here's one for you," he said, rummaging through the basket, pulling out a magenta coloured one with silver letters. He handed it to her without saying a word.

_Shopkeepers do it on the sales floor._

She tried to slip it into her pocket, but George spoke again. "I'll give you an extra galleon this week if you wear that today."  She looked from him to Verity.

"He's not much on pay rises. You may want to think on it."

One galleon was a lot of money considering she barely had any gold even if she were currently living rent free in her boss' flat. She grimaced, but pinned it on her robes directly under her name.  She smiled at George, and continued her journeying around the shop.  Sooner than expected, the afternoon was upon them, and Verity was going for the day, leaving Rhia to help George close. Rhia straightened the Wonder Witch products and swept the floor.

When the bell tinkled next, Rhia had been ducking behind the counter, emptying several small boxes of prophecy orbs when she heard a boy's voice; the same voice from earlier. "Excuse me, miss, we're looking for fireworks. Can you help us?"

She swallowed, hoping George would rush over, but he was involved with some parchment. "Of course," she said, rising to greet the new patrons, trying to keep her smile not appear too frozen on her face as the boy's grin widened.

"Aunt Rhee! What are you doing here?"

George looked up from his paperwork, trying not to be obvious in his eavesdropping. Rhia smiled and answered her nephew.

"Hello Dai. I work here. What brings you in?" She looked at the man with him, and smiled warily.

"We came for fireworks," the man answered with a startled smile.  "Do you have any?" He saw her name on her robes and was reading the pin beneath it, suppressing a snort followed by a grin.

"Do you want the Basic Blaze box or the de…flag…de…" She knitted her brow trying to remember all of the unusual Weasley names for their products.

George came over now to assist. "Deflagration Deluxe – that's twenty galleons and the Basic Blaze is five galleons. Are you friends of Rhia's? She's a great worker; a lifesaver really."

Rhia motioned from George to the man, and introduced them. "George Weasley, owner extraordinaire, this is our nephew Dai, and my brother, Celyn." George and Celyn exchanged a handshake and pleasantries, and George went back to his paperwork, keeping one eye on the trio. Celyn said a few things to Rhia in that unusual language and reached out to touch her bruised face. She jerked back, and she shook her head, answering him again in their language. George was getting used to the sound of it, but he still had no idea what language it was or what they were saying.  She frowned at her brother, and asked him again which box of fireworks he wanted.

"What– no family discount?" her brother asked with a laugh.

Rhia laughed. "Actually, Cel, George here is a skinflint.  His family doesn't get a family discount, and neither do I.  I'll get the Basic Blaze box for you."

" _Diolch_ ," he said, handing her ten coins. "Keep the change."

" _Dim diolch_."  She handed him five coins back.

"Rhia–"

"I'm fine, Celyn. How's mam?"

"Sad.  How do you feel? Any better?"

"I told you," she said, sternly, chancing half a glance in George's direction. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Will you come for tea on Sunday?" She shook her head, but Celyn continued, "Uncle Rhodri will be there, and Rhydderch; they can straighten the whole thing out. Mam will listen to them."

"There's nothing to straighten. I'm quite well." She handed them the bag containing the fireworks, and as they reached the door, she called after them. "Cel," she paused as he turned to look at his sister, "Don't mention that you saw me here. No one needs to know where I'm working, all right?"

He nodded, his eyes becoming moist. "Come on, Dai," he said, turning to his nephew. "Ice cream, then home. You mam is waiting for us."

The door clattered closed. Rhia was grateful that George continued to look at his paperwork and not at her. She knew that the floodgates of her eyes were about to burst open. She came round the counter, pausing only to stammer out in a shaking voice, "I think it's time for my break," and fleeing into the stock room.

George nodded mutely, but discreetly did not follow her through the swaying curtain.

After some time passed, Rhia returned to the main shop front, and went back to stocking the prophecy balls. When George stepped behind her, he rested one hand on her shoulder and pressed down in a way that truly comforted her. She swallowed the lump in her throat.  When he passed by a second time, he paused, and sitting beside her on the floor, began to stock the extendable ears in the case adjacent to the balls. She looked at him, grinning weakly.

"I know that this is my first day and all, but I didn't think that those went there," she said, after he was finished putting them all in the case.

"They don't, but I thought I'd try something new. They're getting fingered out in the open. You don't think it's a good idea?"

She shrugged. "We'll try it out, I suppose. It can't hurt to shake things up a bit, right?"

He nodded, grinning. "Can I ask you something?"

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet. You'll be the first I come to." Her voice was shaking.

"I was actually going to ask you what language that was that you're always speaking – the one that I can't understand a word of."

"Oh," she smirked. "It's Welsh."

"It's lovely. Can you teach me?"

"Why?  So you can eavesdrop on me in two languages?"

"You never know when it'll come in handy. I may need to go to Wales to procure some dragon's blood or talons."

"We don't have dragons anymore. They're in Romania now.  We have sheep."

"I may need to baa-gin with the locals," he poked her in the side as he said this, and then added, "Go on, teach me then."

She laughed at his weak pun. "Where to begin? We should start with your name, I imagine. In Welsh, George would be _Sior_.  It's pronounced She-or."

"She-or."

"Well done. Now when someone gives you something – like earlier, my brother was trying to give me money –"

"Yes, you should have taken it. I don't pay very well."

"Too true, but I said ' _dim diolch_ ,' which means 'no thanks'. Yes is _oes_ , and no is _nac oes_ , and thanks is _diolch_ and no thanks is _dim diolch_."

"So, I would ask you to sleep with me –"

"And I would say _dim diolch, Sior. Efallai fory._ "

"What does that mean – that last bit?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

George raised his eyebrows, grinning and they were both laughing when the door chime tinkled again. George stood to greet the customer, and was surprised to find Rhia's larger bearded brother in his shop. He tapped Rhia's head with his wand as her brother turned to face the glass counter. Rhia felt as though an egg had been cracked over her head, and when she looked at her hands, they had blended into the colour of the floor. Rhia looked up at George, and was about to speak when she heard the man's voice and recognized her oldest brother. She sat very still and listened. "My brother was in here earlier, and bought some fireworks. He wanted me to pick up a second box. Do you recall which box he bought?"

"Yes, we've only sold one today. It was the Basic Blaze box –five galleons. Shall I get it for you?"

"Cheers.  I remember you from the other day, at the café," he said, looking around the shop. "Are you there often?"

"Nearly every day. Here you go. Would you like a bag?"

"Cheers.  No. Have you seen my sister since then?"

"Your sister?" George took the coins from the man's hand.

"The red haired woman that I was arguing with?"

"You mean the one you slapped around?" He paused for effect, but quickly answered his question, "No. I hadn't seen her before or since." George handed him a separate sheet of instructions for the fireworks. "Have fun with them."

"Cheers."  Rhia's brother exited the shop, and George waited, and it wasn't until he saw him disappear down the alleyway and around the corner that he reversed the disillusionment spell on Rhia.

"Cheers," she replied, finishing up the stocking of the shelves.

"Rhia, I don't –"

"George, I've already told you. You'll be the first to know."

"Actually," he lied, "I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the pub with me. I'm meeting some friends tonight."

She shook her head. " _Mae'n ddrwg gen i. Dim diolch_."

"Sorry?"

"That's what I said."

He laughed. "I thought our lessons were over for today."

She smiled. "There's always something new to learn, isn't there?"

"Well, let's have our tea first, and then I'll be off, and you can learn how to do the dishes. Are pasties all right?"

"I love pasties. I could eat them every day."

* * *

Rhia rolled over with a groan. The stumbling bodies coming up the stairs were not even trying to be quiet, despite George's loud shushing at them. They crashed into the walls and she could hear someone slip down a few steps, cursing and giggling. They were all laughing hysterically.

"Shh.  I'm sure she's sleeping. Don't wake her. I'm all right. You guys can go on home."

"Go?" a thick Scottish brogue sounded. "I wanta see 'er."

"Me, too," another man said.

"Oi, she's not a caged pixie to gawk at."

"The way you talked about her all night, I thought she might be a Veela."

"Is she?" the Scot asked thickly. "Is she a Veela? Lemme see, George."

Rhia could hear scrambling, and someone being shoved, hitting the wall with a thud.

"You got me home. I'm home now. You two can go.  Out!"

Rhia sat up in the dark, letting the covers fall to her waist.  "George, is that you?" she asked drowsily.

The three men were silent, waiting for her to be angry at them for coming back so late, so drunk and then waking her, and they were all staring wide-eyed at her silhouette in the faint moonlight.

"George?"

"Yes, love, it's me," George said, trying to sound pacifying.

"Well, come to bed already. I've been up waiting for you, _cariad_ " she teased.

His eyes widened, and turning to the other two men, growled, "Out!  Now!" He gave them each a push towards the stairs, and at the same time dragging his trousers down, tripping as they pooled around his boots. He kicked those off, and pushed the men again as he fell onto his arse, trying to tug the trousers from his ankles.

"Lock the door," he hissed down the stairs, and turning back towards the bed, he yanked his shirt over his head and practically dove into the bed, encircling his arms around Rhia's waist.

She jerked up in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Coming to bed; you invited me."

"I was helping rid you of your drunken friends. It wasn't an invitation."

"It wasn't?"

"No."

He gently prodded her to lie down again on the bed, nuzzling his nose into her neck. He kissed her there, sending a wave through her body, and then he began to nibble on her ear, causing bumps to rise on her tingling skin. "That's all well and good, and I appreciate it, but since I'm already here, and I'm nearly naked, why don't we –"

"Why don't we what?"

"Come on, Rhia. You're in **my** bed after all."

"That's a fair point," she admitted, turning her body to face his, and as his smile broadened, her face came very close to his. Their noses were nearly touching. She breathed out a sigh that he could feel on his lips. She inched closer still. He could feel parts of her body barely touch his and his drunkenness was quickly turning to arousal as he became aware of her one thigh and her breasts and when her lips were just about on his, he breathed out his own sigh. She was so close he could almost taste her.  Almost.

He looked into her eyes and when she smiled at him, he smiled back at her in anticipation of what was about to go on in his bed. He was really looking forward to this; he'd been so lonely for so long. The few times he'd shagged since Hogwarts had left him feeling used up and spent and full of regret. He really liked Rhia, and as he thought about his almost bedmate, she then utterly astonished him by grabbing the blanket and leaping over him, landing nimbly in the nearby chair, curling up, and covering herself with his blanket. "I'll sleep here tonight then.

Good night George."

He lay there speechless, motionless, realizing how frustrated he was about to become. "You know, Rhia, most ladies would jump at the chance to sleep with me," he said with just a touch of overconfidence from his position on the bed, an arrogant smile on his lips, propping himself up on one elbow.

Rhia was still trying to settle herself comfortably on the chair; not an easy feat. "I'm not most ladies."

In the dark, he fixed his eyes on her shadow for what seemed like a long time before responding. "That is becoming quite apparent to me."

"I would imagine that most of your ladies find you irresistible," she quipped.

"They do, in fact, and it is passing strange, actually, that you don't."

"Actually," she said quietly, "I do. I just have more self-restraint than your other lady friends."

"Pity."  He watched her for a few more moments as she finally became settled into the chair, legs hanging over the side. She did not look comfortable at all, which he thought was a good thing since he also was becoming extremely uncomfortable. He adjusted his pants as he bit his lip, and stared out at her. He grinned in the end.  "Good night, Rhia. Sleep well, love."

She was already beginning to snore.


	4. Nightmares

 

 

"Do you want a coffee?" George asked as the last customer left the joke shop.

"Oh, um," Rhia began to stammer, shoving her hand in her jeans, feeling the too few coins there. "Um, no, I guess not. Cheers, though." She began to wipe down the counter with a rag, embarrassed at her lack of funds, avoiding George's steady gaze. "Where do you keep the broom?" Her eyes darted to his face and then back down again.

"In the stock room; the other side of the desk. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, stepping out into the early afternoon sunlight.

Rhia nodded her head and continued cleaning the shop. This was her fifth day staying in George's flat, and so far he had refused to take any gold for keeping a roof over her head. She offered to cook, but so far he had refused that as well. She offered to cut her pay in exchange for the bed. He had refused. At first, she just thought he wanted to get her naked in his bed, but he always tried to sleep on the floor before eventually relenting and joining her, always sleeping on top of the covers, at all times remaining the gentleman. Despite that, though, each morning, they woke up, tangled limbs, her hair in his face, his hands somewhere awkward, and for a split second she was content and actually happy, and then just as swiftly, she was jumping up from the bed, so nauseous she almost didn't make it to the loo, forcefully vomiting.

She couldn't believe how sick she felt every morning. This pregnancy thing was a strange experience. She wished she had someone to talk to about it; someone, she thought sadly, like a mother or a sister. After she woke up each morning, pale and peaky, and rushing into the bathroom, throwing up the entire contents of her stomach, she would then brush her teeth and eat a hearty breakfast. Two hours later, she ate a second breakfast. Luckily, George hadn't noticed her voracious appetite; he was usually downstairs in the shop by then, but he did wonder why his cupboards were becoming barer with each passing day. She usually shrugged her shoulders and offered to buy groceries, but he turned her down every time. By noon it was over; she was better; completely normal again. She told George it was a stomach bug, and he continued to insist that she see a Healer, but now it was her turn to refuse, although she knew she'd have to tell him the truth eventually. She had hoped to delay that for as long as possible. There was no point turning his life upside down as well.

She looked at the prophecy orbs, lifting one to her face. Using the rag, she wiped away a day's worth of fingerprints, but before setting it back down, she put it to her lips, whispering, "Should I tell him?" She turned the orb over, gently balancing it on her fingertips as words appeared in the mist. 'Not yet.'

The door chime rang, and Rhia fumbled the orb nearly dropping it on the glass counter top, but a hand reached out deftly catching it in one hand, balancing a cardboard tray on the other. George smiled, handing her the orb, which she replaced on the display platform. He handed her a large paper cup filled with hot coffee.

"George, I said I didn't want any."

"Oh, well, they were having a two for one special. I can't pass up a two for one. Drink up."

"Cheers," she said, sipping the hot coffee, scrunching up her face. "Sugar?"

He tossed her a sealed plastic bag of sugar cubes with a wide smile, almost not laughing. "You know, I already put in about eight cubes."

"It's a bigger cup," she rationalized.

The chime rang as Rhia took another sip of hot coffee.

"Hey George," the tall, dark haired woman said as she touched George's shoulder. "Busy?"

Rhia watched as she ran her hand down his arm, squeezing his forearm as she leaned over and kissed him. Rhia stepped away from them, leaving her coffee cup on the counter, restocking the Whiz Bangs.

"Hi Katie. What brings you in?"

"You, of course."

"Go on, then," he laughed.

"Busy tonight?"

"Not sure. What've ya got in mind?"

"Drinks. Leaky Cauldron.  Angelina, Alicia, Demelza. Oliver might meet us; Lee as well.  Come on."

"Hmm. Maybe. What do you think Rhia?" he called over to her. "Drinks at the Leaky tonight?"

"George –" Katie began, but George shushed her.

Rhia shrugged, and George turned back to Katie. "I'll think about it. We've got some cleaning up to do here. I need to lock up now."

"See you later," she said, kissing him again as he steered her to the door, locking it behind her with a wave.

"Tidy time," he called to Rhia.

"Girlfriend?"

"Sorry?"

"Is that your girlfriend?"

"No, we're not dating. She's a friend from school."

"Oh. Can I read one of those books from your bookcase?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Of course. You're welcome to anything; well, anything in the flat. The shop you have to pay for. Come on. It's tidy time. I promised that you could clean my loo."

"Finally! A handsome man and a dirty toilet. My dream date." They were both laughing on their way up the stairs.

When they were finished an hour or so later, George collapsed into the chair in front of the fireplace, leaning his head on the soft back of it. "I hate cleaning the loo," he sighed.

Rhia ruffled his hair with a smile as she passed him. "You'll get used to the weekly cleanings."

"Weekly? I don't know about weekly," he laughed.

She chuckled, crouching in front of the bookcase, perusing his selection of books. There was an odd assortment of potion and charm books, including her favourite, Potion Making for the Putz– no doubt these came in handy for the joke shop.

"Witch Weekly?" she asked, rolling her eyes, holding up a tattered copy.

"They have great recipes."

"And this one?" She held up a magazine with two naked witches wrapped around each other, snogging.

"There's a fantastic article on business management in that one."

"Business management?" she snorted.  "You mean, 'How to keep the people under you, under you,' that one?"

"No. The best position for your office manager – desk or no desk."

She slid the magazine back into its place on the shelf and pulled out a small well-used paperback. She thumbed through the pages before returning to the title Two Witches and a Wizard.  Rhia sat cross-legged on the bed and began to read.

 

_Diego was a man with a problem. He was engaged to be married in a fortnight, but here he was, in this seedy hotel room, feet propped up on the desk, looking at the sexy witch on his lap. She straddled him and began to grind against him and he moaned in obvious enjoyment. This was their third time together and each time they met, the sex became more adventurous and so incredibly hot that Diego could barely stand at the end of the day._

 

"Rhia," George called. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

"What? Oh, sorry. I was a bit involved. Were you saying something?"

"Tea. What would you like for tea?"

"Oh, whatever you like," she answered, but could hardly take her eyes from the book. Diego and the witch were making their way to the shower. _Oh, the poor fiancé_ , Rhia thought.

"He dies in an accident."

"Sorry?" She looked at George sharply.

"Diego. He dies in an accident –flies his broomstick into a building or some other stupid thing, and that first girl – you know, shag on the balcony girl, she's pregnant, and she and the fiancé get together, but not in a sexual way, more like sisterly and raise the baby together."

"Sorry?" she said again with exasperation.  "Did you just ruin the book for me?"

"Did I?" he smirked, rising from the chair.

"That's quite rude. I hate when people do that."

"That was Fred's favourite. Each time he read it, he was actually disappointed that the girls didn't shag. I think he expected the outcome to change."

"So," she said, huffily, placing the book back on the shelf, "What are you making me for tea?"

The fireplace roared suddenly, filling with green flames. Rhia sat on the bed, as far back as she could, so she couldn't be seen by the person flooing.

"George," the voice called. "Are you home?"

"Yes mum." He stepped in front of the fireplace.

"Oh, there you are, dear. Are you coming by for tea today?"

He glanced at Rhia and then back, sitting in the chair once more. "No, mum, not today. Next Sunday."

"When are you getting rid of that beard dear?"

"It'll be gone by next Sunday mum."

"We're going to Hogwarts on Thursday, remember? Will you be there?"

"Of course, I'll be there," he answered quietly, just louder than a whisper.

"I made lamb stew. Can I pass you a bowl?"

"Cheers, mum, you're the best." He took the bowl from her outstretched hand. "Could I bother you for a second bowl? Lee's coming over in a bit."

"Of course."

"Did you bake bread as well?"

"I'll get you some. Do you want any pumpkin juice?"

"No thanks, but did you make ice cream?"

"Yes. Strawberry, your favourite."

"Cheers mum. I'll say it again –you're the best." He took the two bowls of ice cream and set a freezing charm on them, returning to the image of his mother in the fireplace. "Cheers. I'll see you Thursday, and I'll be presentable, I promise."

"I love you dear. Say hello to Lee."

George smiled at his mum and then her head disappeared and the green fire went out. He turned to Rhia and smiled. "Shall I make you some lamb stew and strawberry ice cream for tea? I've just had a hankering."

She laughed, "If it's not too much trouble. I'd hate to put you out." She joined him at the counter, both of them relishing in his mother's delicious cooking.

Later that night as they sat in the pub, Rhia looked at the pint sitting in front of her; the same one she'd started with an hour ago, still almost full. She was enjoying the company of George outside of work and the flat, and she reminisced with Demelza about their last year at Hogwarts together.  They had become somewhat close, especially with the darkness that surrounded that final year. Rhia glanced again at her pint glass. It was a good thing she liked it the other side of warm, but her lack of thirst did not go unnoticed.

"Not much of a drinker, are ya?" George asked, indicating her almost full pint.

She chuckled. "No, I guess not."

"I'll finish it for you," he laughed, trading his empty glass for her nearly full one.

"You shouldn't be drinking at all," a new voice stated, standing across the table from them. Katie had to turn her head to look at Rhia's bearded brother. Rhia remained silent, but George spoke up as she took back her glass, swallowing half of her remaining bitter.

"It's none of your business, is it?  What do you want here anyway?"

"I'm meeting my brother for a drink; it's his birthday."

Rhia's cheeks became pink. She had actually forgotten, what with how mad her life had become.

"Did you forget?"

"It isn't as though I was invited, Gruff."

"Too true. Well, there he is. I'll be off."  He turned towards the noisy crowd entering.

"Isn't that," Katie began, but she was interrupted by Angelina.

"Blimey, isn't that Llew Evans–"

"And Celyn Jones," Katie exclaimed, "from the Welsh team, and there's the rest of them – the team."

"Their chances this year are extraordinary; they might go all the way to the Cup," Angelina commented, and Katie and Alicia nodded their heads in agreement.  George recognized Rhia's brother immediately from the shop.  He thought he had looked familiar then, but couldn't place him at the time. He glanced at Rhia, but her eyes were downcast.  He put a hand on hers. "We can go if you –"

"No." She still hadn't looked up, but then she could feel the mood at the table change and when they grew silent, she raised her eyes.

Her brother was smiling. "Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?"

She gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Of course.  Happy birthday, Cel. Having fun?" She sipped her drink, but then Gruffydd was there again.

"You shouldn't be drinking that."

"So you said," George said. "I thought I told you to sod off."

"You must know, she's –"

"Gruffydd!" Celyn exclaimed.

Demelza stood up. "Rhia, I think it's your round. I'll help you carry."

Rhia was relieved to have an excuse to walk away from the table. She and Demelza stepped to the bar, together, leaving her brothers with George and the rest of his friends. Part of Rhia wished that this was a dream, and wanted only to wake up from this nightmare her life had become. Celyn tried to be a peacemaker, but Gruffydd was so hostile. He was firmly with their mam on this.  Rhia could feel her tears beginning in the corners of her eyes.  She needed to control her emotions before she returned to the table.  She glanced back, and could see Celyn speaking quietly to George.

Celyn looked at George, almost apologetically, and said simply, "My sister has a medical condition; she shouldn't be drinking. Come on," he directed Gruffydd, but his older brother wouldn't move. "Gruffydd, let's go."

"Not yet, Celyn." He looked at George. "Are you sleeping with my sister?"

Katie looked from Gruffydd to George while George glared into the other man's face, but said nothing.  Rhia and Demelza returned with a new drink for everyone, and proceeded to hand them out.

Gruffydd noticed his sister give George the change, spitting, " _putain_ " under his breath.

George stood immediately at the tone, knocking Rhia off balance and into Demelza. He didn't know what the word meant, but he knew it wasn't a compliment.

"Gruffydd! _Digon_!"  Celyn said, pushing his brother's chest back with a hand.

"What, Celyn? It's true. He gives her a job, a place to stay; he pays for her drinks. She sleeps with him in exchange – what else should I call her?"

" _Digon_!  You should call her your sister. Go," he ordered his older brother, and then turned back to the table. "I'm sorry, Rhiannon."

"Don't apologize for me," Gruffydd called back, muttering, " _Ceisio– yr aerwy; y ddraig werdd. Ceisio._ "

"I misplaced it," Rhia answered before Celyn could repeat the question.

"I don't believe that," he said, gently, "but it's not mine to bother about. It's your necklace."  He gave her a sad smile, and returned to his group, already beginning to drink in his honour.

Rhia turned to George, "Can I have the key?  I'd like to go home now." She was on the verge of tears, and didn't know how much longer she could contain them.

"I'll take you," he said, setting his drink down.

"No. Stay with your friends.  Finish my bitter for me. I'll be fine."

She waited while he dug the key from his pocket. "The password is wizard chess." He watched her leave the pub, passing by her brother's group, but not even glancing at them.

"So, what's going on with you two?"  Angelina's voice brought George out of his musings.

"Nothing, why'd you ask?"

"Nothing? Come on Georgie, there's definitely something."

"No. She's just a friend who's having a difficult time with her family."

"And you're her babysitter?" Katie asked.

"No, of course not."

"Good," she added, "then come home with me tonight." Katie rested her hand high on George's thigh, smiling. When George touched her hand, she leaned in to kiss his mouth, and was truly surprised when he removed it from his leg.

"Katie," he said, quietly. "I don't–"

"George, it's one night," she said, touching his face. "I miss you."

"I'm sorry, Kat, but we're not getting together."

"Are you dating this girl? Sleeping with her; like her brother said?"

"No."

"Not yet, you mean," Demelza added.

"Leave the man alone," Angelina chimed back in.

"What do you know, Ange, that we don't?" Katie asked aggressively.

"I don't know anything. Look, there's Oliver and Lee," she added, looking towards the door, taking a long drink and glancing at George as the rest of the table turned their attention to the door.

* * *

George stumbled into bed, and was surprised to find it empty. He glanced around and saw the two chairs propped together with Rhia's arm dangling over one side. Her blanket was on the floor. He sluggishly rose from the bed, and bent over to get the blanket and replace it on her body, but paused to look at her bare legs. Her nightshirt had ridden up higher than she certainly would have liked, but George had no problem with where it was. He reached out his hand, but hesitated, and then finally, deciding against touching her while she slept, he laid the blanket over her, watching it envelop her curves and he smiled, backing away, keeping the image in his head. He fell onto his bed, and was asleep in minutes.

"Fred! No! Fred!"

She heard the screaming, but it was the lamp smashing on the floor that actually woke her up. She threw off her cover, and ran to George's bedside. He was thrashing from side to side; he hit the wall and then the side table again.  She grabbed his arm, but he screamed and thrust her aside aggressively. She flew across the expanse between the beds, landing against the other bed, dazed for a moment as some of Fred's things landed on her, but soon she found her voice.

"George! George! Wake up!"

Her voice stirred something in him and he slowed his movements and, eventually stopped flailing. They both lay in their respective places, breathing heavily in the stillness. Her head was throbbing and felt damp.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Rhiannon," she panted.

He looked towards her in the dark, and sat up on the bed with his legs over the side, feet now resting on the floor. He put his face in his hands, wiping his sweat through his hair, and then drying his hands on his boxers. He grabbed his wand and repaired the lamp, and then lit it, illuminating the flat.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," he said, looking at her. His face paled. "Oh my God! You're bleeding!"

He jumped off of the bed and was beside her in a second. He touched her forehead with his bare hand, and then rummaged through the nearest table's drawers for a handkerchief, and pressed it firmly over her cut head. She was feeling dizzy and a bit queasy as she saw the blood on his hand. He was kneeling in front of her, wearing only his underwear, and looked panic-stricken.  "It won't stop bleeding!"

"Use the impedimenta jinx," she said in a calm but tired voice.

"What?! Seriously?"

"Seriously," she said so calmly that he threatened to panic again.

George pointed his wand at her forehead.

"Impedimenta," he said with a shaking hand.  The blood instantly stopped flowing. He was still panting slightly, but his face looked somewhat relieved.

"Now," she said. "You need to heal me."

Panic set in again. "I need to what?  I can't do that. No, no. Let me take you to St. Mungo's." He took hold of her elbow, and tried to pull her to her feet.

"No," she said firmly. "You can do it, George. I trust you to heal me."

"What if I leave a scar?"

"Then you'll, I don't know, sell me your joke shop for one galleon." He looked at her, still frightened at what she was asking him to do when she said quietly, "It won't scar. I trust you completely, George. Now, trust yourself."

He lifted his wand again. "What do I do?" His voice was insecure and shaking.

"Point it at the wound and _curatio_ , all right?" He nodded and repeated her incantation, and she winced as she felt her skin tightening, the wound knitting itself together.

"Now, run your wand over the blood that's still there, and say, ' _Tergeo_ '," she said, when the discomfort subsided. He did everything she said and waited for her to speak. "How does it look? It feels much better. Any scars?" she asked, running her fingers over the now healed cut.

He shook his head.

"What happened?" she asked, gesturing towards his bed.

"Bad dream. Why were you in the chair?"

"I thought you might be drunk, and you might like the bed to yourself for a change. I just decided to sleep in the chair. No worries."

"That's daft. You thought I'd bring Katie home with me, didn't you?"

Her eyes lifted to meet his gaze, but she merely shrugged.

"You don't need to worry about Katie.  That's been over for a while now."

He leaned very close to her, and unexpectedly hugged her tightly, pressing his cheek to her hair and closing his eyes, thankful that he had not seriously hurt her. It had only been a few days, less than a week, but she was becoming a constant in his life; a good thing that he could rely on, and he was hoping that she was beginning to trust him and rely on him as well. He kissed her forehead, and helped her to stand, and he slowly moved her towards the bed, gently pushing her down on the mattress.

"Now, go to sleep. No more chairs; no more floor. We can control ourselves. I think." He smiled ironically and climbed in next to her, he on top of the blanket and she underneath. He put an arm around her waist, and rested his head against hers, near where he had only a moment ago healed her, his warm breath in her ear quickly lulling her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welsh notations from Chapter 4
> 
> Putain – prostitute or whore  
> Digon – enough  
> ceisio – ask  
> Y aerwy –the necklace (literally the neck-chain)  
> Y ddraig werdd – the green dragon  
> Llew – either a stand alone name or a shortened version of Llewellyn (or the Welsh spelling of Llywelyn) 
> 
> Notes on pronunciation:
> 
> In Welsh, w and y are sometimes vowels. Once you know this, it's not that hard to at least articulate the language even if you still do not understand – ooeyw – ooSi – shf – v ff – fll – there's a breath before the l, like there's an h therech – as in Bach (the composer); not in changed – ddd –th 
> 
> My Welsh Resource
> 
> English-Welsh dictionary –..Conversational& Swearing – .Welsh Names.
> 
> I also got some grammatical help from the LJ community dysgu .com/dysgu_cymraeg/


	5. Family Fun

George was sitting up in his bed, propped up on the pillows against his headboard. He glanced down briefly at the woman beside him and then returned his eyes to the framed photo in his hands. The photo was of him and his twin brother. He and Fred were standing in front of their new shop wearing their magenta robes; the photo captured the fireworks display above the sign and the twins' heads on the day of their shop's grand opening. It seemed like yesterday. He ran a finger over Fred's laughing face.

 

Oh, how he missed his brother

.  Tears began to stream down his cheeks. It had been only two months since Fred had died. Since they had buried him up at Hogwarts, where they'd had so much fun laughing, and pranking, and becoming men from boys, never quite growing up, and it was where Fred had died. He would never grow up now; never have children or fight with their mum or burn the bacon he loved for breakfast. No more Firewhisky or blueberries or Quidditch.

George swallowed the sour taste coming up in his throat, and he remembered the woman beside him again when she rolled over with a grunt, resting her arm across his lap, snuggling her face into his hip, taking him only slightly by surprise. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the headboard, giving the tears their freedom to squeeze out silently. He let his hand fall gently into Rhia's hair, brushing it distractedly with his fingers.

After that first night, she had refused to let him sleep on the floor.  He tried to argue, but she was persuasive. She informed him that, since she wasn't paying him for the room, she would sleep on the floor, and he wouldn't have any of that, so they agreed to share the bed until he was ready to clear off Fred's. He definitely wasn't ready for that step. He was still in denial. Or was it anger? He looked at his dead brother's bed, but couldn't bear it for long. He looked away again.

Rhia stirred again, pressing her arm down and putting pressure on his lap. He didn't know how much longer he could endure having her in the bed with him either, come to think of it. He noticed one more freckle on her earlobe and smiled. She was not completely covered in freckles like he and his family were. She had a smattering across her nose and under her eyes and the one in the corner of her eye that disappeared when she laughed heartily.  On him, it was more like connect the dots; for her, it was a scavenger hunt with just enough to make it interesting. She had barely been here one week, and he'd taken about a dozen cold showers. He often woke up in the night with her against him, legs around him, hands on his chest or stomach, breasts against his arm or side. Each time he looked at her, he could see her naked under him in the Hogwarts' dorms. He loved the memory, but hated the torture she was putting him under each time he awoke to find her close, her flowery scent filling his nostrils.

"Mmm," she murmured.

George smiled. She had moaned like that every morning so far, and when she smiled, he smiled. He wouldn't mind hearing those throaty sounds while he was touching her curves – naked, of course.  He enjoyed observing her morning ritual as she liked to stretch her whole body out, like a cat, and that included her voice with this tiny little moan. Unfortunately, the stretching habit also included her stomach with her almost ritualistic daily spate of vomiting. He asked her about it, but she dismissed it simply as a stomach bug caused by the strange surroundings, different foods and added stress of no home and a new job. George decided the best course of action was to leave her be, but he was determined to ask Hermione about it or maybe to drag Rhia's arse over to St. Mungo's for a proper diagnosis.

She was awake now and smiled up at him, and for an instant, she looked concerned at his tear-stained face, but in the next moment, he almost laughed as his prediction was spot on. She leapt from the bed, hand over mouth, darting at top speed to the loo. George let his laugh free now that she was out of earshot, and covered his ear with the pillow. The sound of her retching almost made him want to vomit as well.

Looking at his brother's bed, he spoke quietly, "Oi, Fred. She's beautiful, but the bloody retching – sweet Merlin, I'm not sure she's worth it." He paused, then laughed. "I know, they're all worth it."

Rhia came back to the bed, climbing over George, lying on her side, facing him, with her one arm curled around her stomach. George put his hand on her back, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. She snuggled her head on his thigh with her other hand on his leg and under her cheek, and as they both stared at the photo of Fred and George, neither one realized that his hand had slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt, caressing her bare back. "He was very handsome," Rhia commented.

George smiled. "We're identical. If he's handsome, I'm handsome," he protested.

"Not true. He's much better looking than you. Don't you see the sparkle in his eyes?"

"That's a reflection of the fireworks."

"You don't have the reflection. No sparkle."

"That's because Fred's dead," he said sadly.

Rhia squeezed his leg, startling him. "I'm sorry. I was trying to be funny. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just trying to take your mind off him. You seem so sad, George.  I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're only trying to help, but I should tell you –you need to move your hand before you take my mind somewhere else entirely." His hand had been lowering into her shirt, rubbing her back, making her feel warm and her stomach feel settled. "I don't want to forget about Fred. Not ever. But it hurts. I'm tired of being so numb and sad. I miss him."

She pushed herself up to look at his face. "It's hard now, but eventually, you'll feel better, and when you think of Fred, you'll remember the really wonderful things you did together, and what an incredible brother he was to have had for as long as you did.  Would you tell me about him? Tell me about Fred."

He began to talk about Fred: about their inventions and opening the joke shop, about their pranks, especially the ones on their younger brother, Ron. He looked into her dark eyes, and described his best friend whom he desperately missed. "Fred was the smart one, the funny one, the incredibly outlandish one. If he thought we could do it, well then, by Merlin, we could do it. Nothing could stop him when he put his mind to it. We were exactly alike except that he was the better brother." George winked at her. "But I'm still the better looking one,"

He choked as his words became caught in his throat, as if they had begun to strangle him. His shoulders hunched, and he began to cry, not being able to continue. His breathing was ragged as she quickly sat up on her knees, straddling one of his legs. At first, she was touching his face with soothing fingers, but soon was putting her arms around him, holding him close as he cried, his face pressing into her neck and shoulder. He rubbed his face on her nightshirt, and moved his lips closer to hers, but before he could kiss her, their eyes met briefly.

"My stomach's better. I should have breakfast," she said hastily, rising from the bed, his hand slipping from her waist, and falling to the bed.

He watched her walk into the kitchen. "There are some scones.  I'll go in the shower first."

"Why are you up so early? I thought the shop was closed today."  They glanced at each other as they spoke, but both were avoiding eye contact.

"We are closed. We're, I mean, my family's going to Hogwarts to see Fred, and then tea at the Burrow. That's my family's house. You're coming, yes?" he asked impulsively as he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it into the pile of laundry at the foot of the bed. He'd mentioned it once before, but they hadn't discussed it again.

She tried to look away as he dropped his pyjama bottoms, but her eyes were drawn instead to his tight stomach, and broad shoulders. "I don't want to intrude on your family time."

"You wouldn't be. You're my flat-mate. You work in my shop. My family really should meet you, don't you think?"

"Yes, but probably not at your brother's grave."

"Fred should meet you as well."

"All right," she said, after some thought. "I'll go along, but George –"

"Yes."

"You won't tell them how we met, will you? You won't mention the dorms?"

"No." He shook his head, and smirked before dropping his pants and stepping into the bathroom and another cold shower filled with more pleasant memories.

Rhia shook her head. Sharing the flat with George, even for a short time, was going to be interesting if nothing else, and frustrating.  Yes, frustrating.

*

Hogwarts' battle scars were still evident, even two months later. The grass was scorched and torn up in many areas at the front of the castle and coming around alongside the lake, past Hagrid's hut was very similar. It appeared as though the roof to his hut had been repaired. There was still a gaping hole remaining in one of the castle's battlements. Rhia stopped as George paused to look at that particular area of destruction. She looked on in silence, and then George bit his lip and began to cry, still staring at the fissure.

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. When his eye was drawn to hers, she touched his cheek, now smooth and beard-free, with her palm and wiped a tear away with her thumb. On an impulse, she grasped him around the waist and pulled him to her. He began to cry in earnest and sank his head into her neck and shoulder.  Rhia stroked his back and kissed his wet cheek, whispering sweet words of comfort.

"I miss him so much, Rhia. When I think I'll never see him again, I can't breathe. I can't move. I wish I'd been the one to die. He was so much better than me."

He took a deep breath and lifted his head a little, not speaking, but looking into her eyes with gratitude, truly grateful that she was here again. He couldn't help himself. He took another deep breath, and as he exhaled, he kissed her. His lips rubbed against hers, his tongue begging her lips to open, which they readily did.  Her fingers dug into his back, and when a cool breeze blew across them, they pulled apart, chuckling, not believing that they had just snogged standing in the shadow of Fred's death, just metres from his grave. Rhia touched George's face once more, and when he saw his family approaching the Quidditch pitch whose shade would cover Fred's eternal resting place, he took Rhia's hand and they made their way to meet them near the granite marker over Fred's grave.

Rhia stopped walking and let her hand slip from George's. He stopped abruptly when she did, turning to face her, looking quizzical. "I don't want to intrude –"

"You're not –"

"George."  She touched his hand, which he took up again. "Your family's never met me. I'd rather wait until we're at your house, if that's all right. I'll be right here if you need me.  I promise." They both turned away, towards a voice calling Rhia's name.

"Aunt Rhiannon. Why are you here? Are you here to see Daddy?"

"Daddy?" she asked, hesitantly, keeping George's hand clutched in hers, gripping it tighter now.

"Yes.  We're here to visit Daddy. Will you come?"

She began speaking to her young nephew gently. "Dai –"

George interrupted. "Rhiannon." She turned back to face him. He squeezed her hand.

"It's all right, love," he smiled. "Go with your nephew."

"George–"

"Go with your nephew," he said slowly. "Who knows?  Perhaps, it will be good to see your family." She nodded, but she didn't really believe his optimism. She kissed his cheek, and she released his hand, finally, reluctantly. Dai took her hand and led her away from George and the Weasleys and across the grass towards the damaged castle. They hadn't gone far when they were approached by a woman, looking infuriated.

George had just leaned against a tree near his brother's grave observing as Rhia walked away, holding her nephew's hand when a woman approached them. She yanked the boy from Rhia's grasp, and began shouting at her. Rhia took a step back, but the woman continued to berate her and stepped closer. George stood up, away from the tree, and with a glance towards his own family, he began walking towards Rhia. He hadn't quite reached her when the woman struck her across the face. Rhia stumbled back, falling down into the grass. The woman was still shouting, and George began running over, calling out Rhia's name. When the woman saw George moving swiftly towards them, she took Dai and walked away. George kneeled beside Rhia. She had started crying, and when she felt his hand on her, she became hysterical, leaning into his chest, her arms around his neck. He put his arms around her, hugging her and watching the woman move away as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry, George. I'm supposed to be here for you today."

"That's just foolish. We're here for each other. Who was that woman?"

"My sister – Catrin. She blames me for her husband's death.  She…she says it's my fault."

"It's not."

They were interrupted by one of George's brothers. They were all tall, but this was the shortest brother. He wasn't as lean as George, but similarly built and with more muscle tone.

"Mum wanted you to know we're going back. She knows you want to be alone with Fred, but expects you to come for tea." He put a hand on George's shoulder as they both looked at their brother's grave.

George nodded, letting out a deep breath. "Charlie, this is my friend, Rhiannon. She works at the shop now, and she's staying in my flat for a bit. Rhia, this is my older brother, Charlie."

He put out a hand to shake. "Lovely to meet you."

She nodded, but remained silent, avoiding any eye contact as she shook his hand.

"Bill and I are going to the Hog's Head for a bit and then home.  Will we see you there, Georgie?" George nodded.

When Charlie left, he led Rhia over to Fred's grave. She stayed by the tree, so he could have some privacy. He kneeled in front of the marker, touching the smooth granite and then over the engraving of Fred's name and date of birth. Rhia leaned on the tree even when George's shoulders began to shake from his sobbing, somehow knowing that he didn't want her there yet. She waited until he finally stopped and laid himself across the grass, and when she approached him she laid a hand on his shoulder, but remained silent.

He nodded his head and rose, suddenly embracing her and surprising her with a deep kiss, only stopping when an errant breeze blew cold across them, slapping his face with a sprig of oak leaves. He chuckled, looking at the headstone and shaking his head and then, taking Rhia's hand, he walked away from the castle, from their school, from their childhood.

When they arrived at the Hog's Head Inn, they easily found Bill and Charlie sitting with a few other wizards, toasting a variety of names, presumably some of the dead that had been remembered today. As Rhia sat, Bill put out a hand, introducing himself. She acknowledged Charlie with a smile when he gave her a small wave.  George had been detained near the door. When Charlie smirked at his older brother, Rhia turned to see George's friend, Katie, with her arms wrapped around him, pressing against him after an apparent kiss.

Katie was taller than Rhia, with an athlete's body and long dark hair.  Rhia was disconcerted, noticing that she and George looked good together – they fit well. Rhia was so short in stature that she and George probably looked like a sideshow. She couldn't believe that she was feeling so much jealousy towards them.  Rhia frowned slightly, and when she turned back to the table, Charlie had pushed a pint glass towards her. She took a tiny sip, but ignored it for the most part. George and Katie joined them moments later with their own pints as Katie positioned herself between George and Rhia, her back turned to the other girl.  After three toasts to Fred, everyone except Rhia had nearly empty glasses. George laughed and took hers from her hand, "I'll finish it for you," he said with a wink.

Katie had threaded her arm through George's and was leaning into him, but turned slightly to speak to Rhia. "So, Rhia, have you found a permanent place to stay?"

Rhia looked at Katie with a confused look. "Sorry?"

"I thought that staying with George was temporary." Rhia shrugged, but remained silent. When Katie paused, she became aware that George's brothers were staring at her waiting for her response, but then Katie asked her about school. "I don't remember you at all – did you attend Hogwarts?"

"Only for my seventh year. I went to school in Wales until then."

"Which school was that?"

"Yr Ysgol Cymreig achos Gwyddoniaid."

"What the hell is that?"

Rhia looked at Katie with just as much disdain as she was receiving in return. "It's The Welsh School for Wizards. It was an all girls' school. I attended there from first through sixth year, and then when the Ministry ordered all purebloods to attend Hogwarts, I went to Hogwarts. My Dad had just been murdered at the Ministry – he worked as an auror for Minister Scrimgeour.  My mam said that I didn't have a choice. We had to prove our loyalty. I was friendly with Neville and Ginny that year.  Neville and I were in the same year, but I'm older by one year."

"Did you get left behind?" Katie smirked.

"No."  Rhia was feeling exasperated. She knew that Katie was trying to upset her, and it was working. Rhia swallowed, her eyes beginning to tear. "We start at twelve in Wales. I graduated from Hogwarts after Voldemort was defeated." Everyone at the table cringed at the name.

"And now you work for George," Katie stated.

Rhia looked at her smug face. "Yes, I do."

"You didn't want to do something…I don't know, more meaningful?  Your career choice was shop clerk?"

Everyone was looking at Katie now, not knowing what was spurring her on.  Rhia looked at her possessive hold on George's arm, and began to rant.

"There's nothing wrong with being a shop clerk. Verity's a shop clerk and she's not an idiot. Actually, Katie, I _wanted_ to be a Healer, but when my mam threw my arse out of the house, I was left with no money and no place to live. I don't know what I would have done without George. He's been a wonderful friend. More than that, really." She looked into George's face. He looked ashen and seemed infuriated.  She watched as he extricated his arm from Katie's, much to her surprise, and Rhia smiled. He reached out and drained the drink he had taken from her. Bill looked at George and then his wristwatch, nodding and said, "Last round. Mum's expecting us soon."

With a smile, George stood to get the next round and at just the same moment, a short warty man grabbed George by his collar. "Fred, m'boy, It's brilliant to see you, lad. I thought you'd died."

George looked infuriated, like he could kill the man and the group became quietly appalled around them. George pushed the man away.  "Get off me, Dung, you bloody arse. Fred did die! I'm George, you tosser!"

"Oh, George," Dung cried out, grabbing George's collar again.  "I'm so sorry, George. You lads look so much alike.

Bill and Charlie both jumped up with Bill dragging Dung off of George as Charlie restrained George, unsure of what his brother was apt to do.  "Of course they do, Dung," Bill said quietly. "They were twins."

George stood there catching his breath for a moment, and in the next instant, Rhia was at his side.

"George?" she asked in a soft voice as she took his hand. "Will you take me home? I don't feel well."

He looked at her, trying to decide if she were simply attempting to distract him, but he noticed that she did look peaky. He remembered that she had been sick again this morning. She had also begun having dizzy spells. Just yesterday, he found her face down at the bottom of the stairs. He still wasn't sure if she fell down the stairs or passed out at the bottom. She couldn't remember. He honestly didn't know how she did it – getting up every morning, vomiting, and then eating a full breakfast and going to work in the shop all day. She was an interesting woman, and he realised that she had in fact distracted him from Mundungus Fletcher after all. He smiled at her. He thought he should keep her around for awhile. He could feel a few tears slipping from his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand. He wondered what kind of relationship they would have had if his brother were alive instead of dead.  Would they even have slept together in the first place? Would they have ever met again?

"Of course. I'll take you home."

Dung tried to talk to him again, but George ignored him. Taking Rhia's arm, they left the Hog's Head, waving to his older brothers and Katie with a feeble smile. As they exited, he paused, looking up the path that leads to Hogwarts.

"Do you want to go back up?" she asked quietly. He stared up the path and thought for a moment, but then shook his head, a grimace still fixed on his face.

"Ready?" he asked, trying to smile at her, but not quite managing it.  She nodded, and he turned on the spot, and seconds later, they were standing on a grassy path. Rhia swayed; George felt certain she would have fallen to the ground if he hadn't been holding her arm.

She looked beyond George, catching sight of a lopsided thatch-roofed house with an enormous garden. She had a tremendous feeling of wellbeing as she looked at the view.

"Where are we?" She gave him a questioning look.

"Home," he breathed out. "Sorry. When you said 'home,' I instinctively thought of here." He smiled at her. "Come meet my family."

He released her elbow, and they were both surprised when she remained on her feet. He extended his hand, which she readily clasped and they approached his boyhood home hand in hand. Most of his family was already there, and after meeting his parents, there were four pops and Bill, Charlie, Katie and Kingsley Shacklebolt all Apparated in. George was pointing out the more interesting aspects of his family's home.

"That's the apple orchard, and just beyond that," he said, pointing his finger, "is our Quidditch pitch. It's small, but large enough to practice on."

"Did you all play?"

"Except Percy. Well, that's not true. He played at home, but he never joined the team. This is the shed. We used to have a Muggle car, but now it's just Dad's workshop, and his Muggle collection."

"He collects Muggles?"

George laughed. "No. Just their stuff. Here's the broom shed. You can figure out what that's for."

"Broomsticks?" she asked, still laughing.

He began to laugh again with a nod of his head, but they hadn't noticed Katie until she answered, "Not the last time, remember, Georgie?"

He blushed a deep red, and when Rhia went to release his hand, he gripped hers tightly. "Charlie asked you for tea?"

"Yes, I hope that's all right."

"Of course it's all right. You should stay. You were close with Fred." He turned to Rhia. "Come along. You should meet everyone else as well."

Rhia met the rest of the family, and in addition to the whole family being in attendance, there were also Andromeda Tonks, her grandson, Teddy, Harry Potter, who was dating George's sister, and Hermione Granger, his brother, Ron's, girlfriend. Teddy was crying loudly and finally Mrs. Weasley took him and handed him to Ginny to try and settle him. Ginny looked quite annoyed, and trudged over with the screaming three month old, depositing him in George's arms.  He looked horrified.

"What are you doing, Gin? You know, I'm rubbish with babies."  He tried to hand Teddy back, but his sister stepped away.

"Just because I'm the only girl doesn't mean I get stuck with the screaming baby. I'm rubbish as well." She turned on her heel and walked away.

"Gin!" he called urgently.

Rhia had tried to suppress her laugh, but it finally escaped her lips as she sat leaning against the tree.

"You think it's funny?"

"Hilarious," she laughed.

George took out his wand, looking up at the apple above her head, but when she stopped laughing to glare at him, he pointed the wand at Teddy and sent him levitating over to Rhia, much to her own horror.  She threw her arms up, and carefully caught the screaming child.  His hair had just turned orange, and he was beginning to look like a Weasley. Rhia gave George a confused look.

"Metamorphmagus," he replied. He sat next to her. "Not so hilarious anymore, is it?"

Rhia ignored him as she lifted Teddy up by his armpits, steadying his neck and resting his head on her chest, leaning back against the tree more comfortably. Her shirt was becoming wet from his drooling and crying, but as she leaned back, she began to hum and then sing quietly in what George now recognized as Welsh. George stared at her face, watching her and watching Teddy's hair change from the bright orange to the darker red that very nearly matched Rhia's own colour. Teddy had stopped crying as soon as his hair colour changed and his breathing regulated, coming out evenly with an occasional snore.

"How did you do that?" he asked in an awed sort of voice.

"Babies like to feel snuggled. They like to hear the heartbeat. It's very calming to listen to someone else's heart beating. It's like before they were born. At least, it always worked with my nephews." Rhia looked over George's shoulder as his mum approached them.

"Do you have any children, Rhiannon?"

"No.  Not yet, Mrs. Weasley."

"George, can you help Bill with the tables?"

"Bill's got Charlie, mum."

"How long have you known our George?"

"It's just been a few weeks."

"George, can you help Ginny bring out the platters?" She turned back to Rhia. "Where did you two meet?"

"Mum, Dad is helping Ginny, and we met at the café. Remember, I told you about her brother."

"Oh yes, of course, dear. Ginny thought you met at Hogwarts."

"Well, yes, that's true. We met briefly, but we didn't go to Hogwarts together. Are you sure you don't work for the Ministry, mum? Come on," he said, leading his mother away.  "Let's let Teddy rest before the second round of screaming starts."

"George, I'm simply trying to get to know your new friend. She seems lovely. Really good with babies. Are you two dating?  Is it serious? Have you met her family? Where are they from?"

"Mum–"

"George."

"She is. She seems to be. No. Again, no. Some of them. Wales. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Not in the least."

After tea was over, Rhia sat once again under the apple tree. No one even tried to calm Teddy down this time. Ginny merely picked him up and went straight to Rhia, and without saying a word, handed the baby to her. He was asleep in moments, resting his ear against her beating heart. Rhia sat there, patting the baby's back and watching everyone in the garden. She watched Bill and Charlie juggle bowls of ice cream. Harry, Ron, Katie and Ginny were playing Catch-the-Snitch on broomsticks. Percy and Mr. Weasley were having an animated discussion about Muggles with Hermione.  Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Tonks were exchanging recipes. The Minister of Magic was finishing his bowl of ice cream, laughing at Mr. Weasley's under-appreciated Muggle fascination.

George sat next to her under the apple tree again, putting an arm around her shoulders. She laughed unexpectedly, causing George to turn to her as Teddy snorted, but continued sleeping.

"Your family's brilliant, George, just brilliant."

He broadened his smile, and leaning over Teddy's sleeping form, he kissed Rhia on her forehead.

"They are, aren't they?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Mam –mum, mother or mama
> 
> Yr Ysgol Cymreig achos Gwyddoniaid – The Welsh School for Wizards (it is literally The School Welsh for Wizards) – I chose wizards as a neutral, like mankind. Ironically, it is an all girls school, but apparently not when it was named.


	6. First Date

George emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel. When the door opened and then closed, Rhia looked up as he passed in front of her line of sight. She lay on her stomach on George's bed, and tried to concentrate on the book in her hands, but her eyes kept drifting over to the kitchen. George knew that she was watching him as he strode behind the counter, looking for something to eat.

"Hungry?" he asked, tossing his towel on the counter top. She looked up, and her mouthed formed an "o" shape as she realized he was naked, in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. She shook her head with a smile.

"Did you already eat?" She nodded her head. "I think I'll have something. Are you sure I can't tempt you?" He nudged a plate of sausages in her direction. She shook her head again, and went back to her book. She was surprised to see him minutes later, standing in front of the bed fully dressed.  "Were you sick this morning? I didn't hear any retching."  When she shook her head again, he added, "That's a good morning then. Ready for work?"

She wrinkled her forehead. "It's Wednesday, George. I don't work on Wednesdays."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. What're ya reading?"

She held the book up, so he could read the title A Healer in Love.

"That's a great one. Did you get to the part with the twins?"

"The twins?" She looked over the side of the bed as he sat next to her, bending to tie his trainers.

"Yes.  Angelina gave that book to Fred. She gave them all to Fred, come to think of it. There's these two red-haired twins; get the connection?" He pointed to his wet hair, and continued, "They have a medical problem, and see the Healer on duty.  What was her name? Oh yes, Anna. Anna the Healer.  Anyway, one of them is dying, and she's dating him, but she accidentally sleeps with the other twin and gets pregnant.  Funny how all of these trashy novels involve intentional sex and accidental pregnancy. She gets pregnant, has a miscarriage, gets pregnant by the twin she's in love with, he dies, and I think she marries the second one. Or does she just shag him senseless in the store room of St. Mungo's? She gets fired for the shagging, but then gets rehired when the second twin makes everything all better. The baby's a girl, I think."

"George," she said solemnly. "You didn't just ruin another book for me, did you?"

He laughed, rising from the bed. "Did I?" He quickly ran down the stairs to his shop as the book bounced down, step by step, landing at his feet and at the lower door. He called back up the stairs, "You missed me!"

"Bastard!" she yelled back down. "Stop doing that! I hate when you do that!" She rolled off the bed, tying her own trainers, pulled her anorak over her head, grabbed her bag and rushed down the stairs. She stepped into the shop for only a moment, and stepped through the front door without so much as a glance towards George, who was laughing behind the counter with Verity.

This day was just like every Wednesday as Rhia headed down the cobblestones towards the Leaky Cauldron. Usually, she had nowhere to go on her one day off in the week, so she pretended that she had friends whom she saw, or she pretended to go to the café for a cup. Usually, she just wandered around the Alley, window shopping or doing more of the same on the Muggle side of London, but today was one of her appointment days. It had been four weeks since her last one; a whole month living with George, and she still hadn't told him what she did on these Wednesdays. She would have to soon, though. She knew that, but she also knew that it would change everything, and right now she was pretty cheesed off at him for ruining another book.

That was really the only thing she did to relax. Reading was really all she could do. She worked in the shop most of the time, and even when she went to the pub with George and his friends, she couldn't drink because of the pregnancy. She always got one bitter – everyone laughed at her low tolerance for the stuff –and while she occasionally sipped it, George always finished it for her. Normally, she liked a decent pint, and she missed the cider as well, but it wasn't safe for the baby. Once everyone knew, at least she could save the money and just get something else that she could enjoy. She was tired all the time, and had even fallen asleep on George's shoulder at the pub the last time out.  Despite the fatigue, she decided to walk today, and it was cutting it close on the time. She was almost late, but when she arrived at the doctor's office, this time at least, there were no forms to fill out.

Rhia spent her time reading the Muggle parenting magazines. "Bottle or breast?" "Crib, cradle, or co-sleeping?" "Should twins sleep in one crib or two?" "Terrible twos – are they real?" She should probably pick up one or two wizarding ones. At least, they would be of more use, giving her the spells for warming the bottle and swaddling the baby. She longed to see the tiny sweaters and booties in the Little Witches Shop, find out what the right age was for the first broomstick ride, and how early was too early for Quidditch. Maybe she could pop into the bookshop and pick one up, and then charm the covers to have something else so no one knew what she was actually reading.  These seemed a bit baffling. What exactly _was_ football? It sounded like a deformity.

She dropped the magazine in her hand when they suddenly called out her name. She felt nervous. Her stomach was a bit queasy.  She had rushed through breakfast before George got out of the shower. She probably shouldn't have had seconds on the porridge, but she was so hungry, and she hadn't vomited her breakfast in a couple of days. Even George had noticed the change.

Again, there was a token knock, and then the door was pushed open.  Doctor McFadden was placing her glasses in her jacket pocket as the door closed behind her with a click. Rhia smiled dazedly.  "Are you ready to take a peek at your baby?" the doctor asked in a sickly cheerful tone. Rhia nodded wordlessly.

The doctor smiled and patted Rhia's knee. "Lie down, and lift your shirt up. Take your jeans down a bit, so we don't mess them up. This will be cold," she warned. She squeezed a tube and some cold gel spurted onto Rhia's stomach; the huge machine that remained adjacent to the bed was turned on. It whirred and lit up like a fireworks display just as Rhia remembered from her last time in this room. It began to hum and the doctor took a wand-like instrument out. This one was slightly different than the one she had used previously; it had a flat circular end on it and the doctor placed it on the gel that was on her stomach, pressing down. Rhia flinched at the awkward pressure, and watched in amazement. They had done something like this a few weeks ago, but Rhia still couldn't believe this kind of magic was possible in the Muggle world.

"Look here." The doctor directed Rhia's gaze to the screen and away from what she was staring at. Rhia was being distracted by the total Muggleness of the room and as she focused, she saw that there was a picture there on the monitor, all of a sudden. The doctor began to point to various places on the screen. "There's a hand," she said.

"A hand?" Rhia asked, not seeing it at first, but then she could see five distinct fingers. "Oh my," she gasped. "Look at it. Look at its tiny fingers," she said in a hoarse whisper.

The doctor smiled. "There's its head." She pointed to the large round object on the screen. The doctor pushed a button, and Rhia heard a tearing sound. She was still staring at her baby's fingers pressed onto its forehead. She had seen George sit like that just yesterday while he ate his breakfast; she had been pretending to read that study book, Newts and Nots.  "Well, that is strange," the doctor said, bringing Rhia out of her baby daydream.

"What's that?" Rhia asked concerned.

"Well, I hate to bring it up. It's a bit too early to tell, really.  I just can't be sure. We'll definitely be able to tell next month."

"Sure about what?" Rhia wiped her wet eyes.

"I can't be positive, but I think there might be two."

"Two hands?"

"No," the doctor smiled gently. "Two heads. You might be having two babies, Rhiannon. Twins."

"Twins?!" Rhia exclaimed. "Is that a joke?"

"No, Rhia, no joke. I mentioned it last time, I'm sure.  Didn't I mention it last time? Perhaps not. Do twins run in your family?"

"No," she paused, and then added, "but the baby's dad was a twin."

"The father's a twin? There's a very good chance then.  Don't worry about it. We'll check in four weeks."

"Easy for you to say," Rhia said, wondering how she would continue to conceal this from everyone. Two babies; no wonder her clothes didn't fit right. Soon, she would be the size of a small cottage. The doctor handed her another scrap of smooth paper, and Rhia cleaned herself up, dressing and leaving. She sat at the same bench in the same grassy space as the last time, and smiled as she now looked at this new picture of her baby that had appeared on the monitor. Her baby's head with its five fingers pressed against its forehead. She could also make out a nose, and behind this George-like pose, there did look as if there was a second head. Perhaps, it was simply a shadow. No, Rhia thought.  Once Doctor McFadden had said twins, Rhia knew it to be true, and she knew it would be confirmed in four more weeks. She carefully concealed this still picture in her wallet behind the first one and proceeded back to George's flat. She thought she might like to cook for George tonight; maybe even pluck up the courage to tell him her secret.

"Hey Verity."

"Hello Rhia. Are you working today?"

"No.  I usually have Wednesdays off. Why?"

"I'm supposed to leave in a few minutes and George went upstairs. He hasn't come back down yet. I thought I'd check on him, but would you mind doing it? That way I don't have to lock up."

"Sure.  Is everything all right?"

Verity rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and then returned her look to Rhia.  "Honestly, I don't know. It was quite noisy up there – a lot of banging around and he was shouting, and then it became unusually still. The noise really just ended a few moments ago."

Rhia shrugged her shoulders, but frowned. "Is he drunk again?"

Verity frowned as well. "I…I don't think so. He did go out for a bit, but he seemed all right when he returned. How many nights has he gone out?"

"Three of the last four," she said sadly. "No worries, Verity.  I'll go up. If you need to leave, just lock up and put in the closed sign, I'll reopen if George needs me to; if he's busy with something else."

"Cheers, Rhia. I'm meeting my mum for tea."

"Enjoy.  See you later." Rhia opened the door in the office quietly, stepping through and ascending two steps, softly calling up the stairs.

"George?"  When there was no response, she called again, this time a little louder. "George. It's Rhia. Are you up here?"  She heard a muffled whimper and a snort. As she reached the topmost step, she stopped in her tracks. She couldn't see George straight away. Surveying the flat, she was speechless as she inspected the disarray. She swallowed and took a deep breath, putting a steadying hand on the wall adjacent to the staircase. Looking to her right where the kitchen was, she saw broken glass and a few puddles near the shards where the stools used to sit. They were both turned over on their sides and one was missing a leg.

Her eyes travelled the room across the sitting area. One squashy chair was turned over, its cushion ripped and spilling its fluff.  Nothing remained on the mantle except the fireplace poker piercing the tapestry that hung over it. George's bed was upside down, bed coverings underneath it. Her trunk, which had been beside the bed, still seemed to be closed, but it had been turned over onto its side. The bedside table was also overturned as was the lamp. Rhia was shocked by the scene, and if it were even possible, she was more stunned when her eyes fell onto Fred's bed.  The piles of Fred's things that had been present there for the several weeks she had been here had been flung to the floor.  Some of them had made their way in bits and pieces down the second staircase heading to the other door that led directly into the Alley.

A wand had landed on the top step, half on half off, teetering as though if one breathed too loudly, it would topple down the steps, crashing into the door at the bottom. She stood motionless, staring at the figure lying to one side on the bed, his body trembling as he sobbed, clutching a magenta work robe that Rhia knew must have been Fred's. George's head rested on Fred's pillow, and he was murmuring incoherently, holding the robes tightly, sniffing in his brother's scent from the robes.

Rhia dropped the rucksack still clutched in her hands onto the chaotic floor. She hesitantly approached the bed and put one hand on George's shoulder, and her other hand's fingers into his messy tangle of hair, brushing his head gently. He continued to shake and sob, not acknowledging either her touch or her presence.  She kneeled on the bed behind his back, and leaned into him, placing her head on his, cheeks together, her arms encircling his body.  Without saying a word, she turned her head down slightly, kissing him tenderly on his wet cheek. She put pressure on his back with her body, and his shuddering began to subside.

He was quiet except for an occasional sniffle or snort. Rhia didn't know how long they just lay there in silence. She thought he had finally fallen asleep, and made to get up to let him rest, but when she moved, his hands released Fred's robe and clutched at her hands, bringing them to his chest. She kissed his cheek sweetly, and rubbed his ear with her cheek and then brushed her lips across it. Finally, she whispered, "Is there anything I can do? Anyone I can get for you?"

He slowly shook his head. She saw his eyes close, and when they opened again, he spoke in a hoarse undertone, "Just stay with me."

"I will."

They lay like that for another hour or so. Rhia remained silent.  George held Rhia's hands within his own, putting pressure against his chest with them. His eyes remained open, and he stared out at the opposite wall, next to the second staircase. He inhaled deeply, and breathed out despondently. His voice was still hoarse from crying and not speaking until he finally said, quietly, "I've got good news and bad news."

"Bad news first."

"This place is a bloody mess. Someone'll have to clean up all this rubbish."

"I'll help you."

"Cheers.  I was counting on you."

"What's the good news then?"

"Fred's bed's cleaned off. You can have your own bed now. You can sleep here…in Fred's bed. I won't even charge you the extra rent," he laughed softly. "Although I should."

She smiled. "I don't want to sleep in Fred's bed. I like your bed."

"What's the difference?" "You, cariad."

He stiffened a little. Before they had started speaking, he had been noticing how perfect she felt around him. One of her legs was wrapped over his, and the other was behind his other knee, moulding against it. Her whole body was moulding around his, and her fingers had been tracing circles on his hands. Every now and then, she kissed his cheek and his ear, making him warm all over. He could feel her breasts pressing against his back.  For a moment, he pictured her again on that first night at Hogwarts. It was their only night, and in his mind's eye, he saw her lying naked against him with his arms comfortably around her.

He caught his breath, and returned to the present. Had he heard her right? Did she want to _sleep_ with him? Or did she simply want to sleep _with_ him so she wasn't alone in a strange place? He released her hands at the same time that he released a deep breath, sighing. She was surprised when he rolled himself onto his stomach, and then his other side, so that he was now facing her. He rested his arm over her waist, and inched closer until his face was almost touching hers. He looked into her dark eyes that he found so striking.  He moved his hand from her waist and ran a finger delicately from the corner of her eye down her cheek until it was touching her lips.

She let out a soft sigh when he budged nearer, and they both moaned softly as his lips finally met hers, and his hand went around her again, supporting her back as he pulled her against his body.  Slowly and knowingly, he slipped his hand inside her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her back. When he touched her bareness, his tongue moved against her lips, begging to be let in, and when she opened her mouth to let him, he nearly squealed, gently parting her legs with his, and rolling her underneath him. He began to unbutton her shirt, his desire for her taking over his thoughts and controlling his movements. Her hands were in his hair and she was curving her hips up, closer to his, but then suddenly she stopped. Her hands went against his chest, pushing him gently away. He stopped kissing her and moved off her, looking down at her face. His breathing was still deep, and he spoke slowly, trying to regain his self-control. "What happened? I thought…I mean…you want me, don't you?"

"I…I…I'm," she stammered, and then he released her, not sure what to think of her unexpected change of heart. When he let go of her arms, he fell onto his back, unsettling the bed, causing her to lose her balance, teetering and then falling off the bed with a crash and a cry.

She lay on the floor, her panting heavy, her back and arse in quite a bit of pain. George was leaning over the side of the bed, looking at her, trying not to laugh. "Merlin, Rhia, I'm sorry.  Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Yes, I'm hurt. It's not funny," she cried at him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

He crawled over the side of the bed, and was beside her on the floor in seconds. "I'm really sorry," he said seriously. "I truly am. Where does it hurt?"

"My back," she answered.

"Let me help you. Come back in the bed." He lifted her up and placed her on Fred's bed, turning her on her side, lying behind her and rubbing her back. "Does that feel a bit better?"

She nodded. "A bit. I'm so sorry, George. I do want you." Surprised by her candidness, he stopped rubbing, listening as she continued, "But I'm not having sex in your dead brother's bed; too much baggage there, and I'm not ready…for that. I know it's how we met, but I don't want…I can't be…I need to straighten out my life first; it's a right mess.  I have so many things…to tell you, but I'm not…I'm not ready. I need more time."

He began to rub her back again. "I wish you could trust me enough to talk about your family, and what happened," and then suddenly, he asked, "Will you go out with me? On a date? Tomorrow night?"

She smiled. "A date? I'd like that…a lot, but I should warn you," she said with a surreptitious glance back at him, "I don't have sex on the first date." She painfully jumped from the bed, and carefully made her way into the kitchen to begin clearing up the broken glass, summoning her wand as George lay on his brother's bed, smiling at her, watching her begin to repair some of the damage he'd done. He hoped _he_ wasn't beyond repairing as he rose from the bed to help, righting the chairs on his way to the kitchen. It _was_ his mess after all. He didn't know what had made him suddenly go off so spectacularly. Sometimes, he just missed Fred so much, it was unbearable. He watched Rhia for a moment more and then began to repair what he could and throw away what he couldn't.  Rhiannon certainly made things better. He smiled at her and he was pleased that she returned the same sweet look back at him.

Rhia had left George to take care of most of the mess, working in the shop for him instead, and at the end of the afternoon, she was quite exhausted. It had been a long afternoon in the shop – very busy with lots of customers – but George really did need to do most of the cleaning on his own in order to begin his own healing.  She trudged up the staircase to the flat. She smelled the peppered beef in the frying pan before she reached the top step.  She didn't even glance at the kitchen as she dropped herself into one of the squashy chairs now repaired beside the glowing fireplace.

The poker was no longer piercing the tapestry, and the fabric had been mended. There was no heat coming from the fireplace, but for some reason, even in the middle of July, George liked to stare into the dancing flames of the fire at night. After a few days, Rhia actually found it quite soothing. They reminded her of the days her dad took her to the old dragon colony not far from their home near Llyn Cowlyd. That was a long time ago, and there were never dragons there anymore, but her dad was full of stories of his childhood, watching the flames dance in a large bonfire, pretending the dragons had left their fire for them. Except for a story now and then, all of the Welsh Greens had been transported abroad.  The only Welsh Greens now were their Quidditch team, and she wasn't sure she was welcome there either.

She was drawn from her shimmering ember daydream by someone calling her name in a sing-song voice. It sounded far away, yet close.  It sounded familiar, yet not. A hand on her shoulder drew her attention there, and blinking several times, she become aware that she was crying. She looked into George's face. He had a concerned look on his face, and he was speaking. He must have been speaking. His lips were moving, but she could hear no sound. She swallowed and focused on his lips. They were dry and they were parted. As she looked beyond them, she could see his perfect teeth; straight and white with an almost imperceptible space in the middle. They stopped moving and smiled. His hand was putting gentle, but increasing pressure on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, Rhiannon?" she heard as her hearing returned.  She nodded gradually. "I was asking if you were a good cook."

She smiled. "I'm an excellent cook. I can prepare anything."

"Excellent.  Will you help me with these pasties?"

"Except pasties," she grinned bashfully, blushing. "I'm rubbish with pasties. I can roast a chicken and do a Yorkshire pudding with homemade gravy, but I can't put a pasty together."

He laughed, ruffling her hair and going back into the kitchen to add the already warmed veggies to the meat and put it in the pasty dough.  "You can do a roast chicken with Yorkshire pudding tomorrow for tea then." He waved his wand over the pasties, turning them golden brown.

"I thought you were taking me out tomorrow. Are you trying to get out of our date?"

"No, no. You can cook on the weekend then. All right?"

She nodded with a laugh, taking the warm pasty from his hand, enjoying the first bite.

The next afternoon breezed by, and Rhia met George in the stock room where he kept his office. "Everything's all locked up, lights out. Should I change? Are we leaving soon?"

"Yes, I just want to finish today's totals. Do you mind?"

"No, of course not." She moved towards the half-hidden door to the flat, but George had stood up abruptly, and took her by the elbow.

"Hang on, I have something for you." He handed her a bunch of brightly coloured flowers tied with a yellow ribbon.

"Cheers.  What's this for? It's not my birthday."

"To thank you, you know, for everything you did yesterday." He leaned closer and kissed her cheek, causing a shudder to run through both of them.

"I'm glad I could help you. Anything you need, George, just ask."

"Cheers."  She turned to the door once more, pausing when he called after her once more. "Oi, when is your birthday, since you brought it up?"

"First August."

"Sorry?"  Her lips curved up slightly and she shrugged, and ran up the stairs to change. He joined her in the flat, running a comb through his hair.

"So, where are you taking me?" she asked, thumbing through a new book choice.

"Which Witch?" he asked.

"Don't you dare," she threatened with no hint of a smile present.

"All right," he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.  "Actually, I know this terrific pub in the Highlands. Oliver took us there once."

"Scotland?  Are you taking the mickey out of me? We're having tea in Scotland?"

"No, really. We could apparate in. It'll be fun, and it won't be the Leaky for a change."

Rhia couldn't help but remember running into her brothers at the Leaky, almost every time they were there with George's friends. What were the chances they'd know someone in Scotland? She finally agreed.

The Carmichael Inn in Pitlochry was small and dark; very medieval with the dark hewn beams and low lamplight. There were a couple of stained glass windows that revealed the setting sun to the patrons.  It was a brilliant place for a conversation, which gave them the chance to get to know one another a bit better. They sat at a corner table alongside each other, facing the bar that took up the centre of the room. Rhia looked around at the TV's and video game terminals, surprised that George would come to a Muggle pub so far from home. They each ordered a lasagne and salad and when Rhia asked for a glass of water with ice, George requested two bitters, pointing to Rhia and himself.

"George, you know, I won't drink that."

"It's two for one, Rhia. I'll finish yours if you can't." "You are such a cheapskate."

"That's what happens when you grow up in a big family with lots of kids and no money. My kids will never wear hand-me-downs."

"There's nothing wrong with hand-me-downs."

"Did you ever have to wear them?"

"I had some."

"You only had one sister, though. Imagine being Ron. Even for Fred and me, it went through three brothers first, although Fred and I dressed alike so much of the time that some of our stuff was new, especially once we started school. It was probably hardest on Ron. We almost never had money for the food trolley on the Hogwarts Express or Hogsmeade weekends. That was when Fred and I started inventing and selling our stuff to the other students who had money. It really came together the summer before our seventh year. We never finished school; left in the middle and opened the shop."

"So you'll have a small family then?"

"Nah.  A Quidditch team; maybe two, but I'll have more money. Your family must have had some money. What was it like having Cadwaladr Jones for a Dad? Good Quidditch seats I'd bet."

"I never paid for tickets; that's for certain." She smiled and George could see her whole demeanour lighten as she thought of her father. "When did you realise?" she asked shyly.

"After the Leaky, that first time we went, on your brother's birthday, when I met him again. If Celyn Jones is your brother, Cadwaladr must be your Dad. He was a great player; a beater like me.  He died a hero." He chanced a glimpse at her, and then continued, "We heard about it the next day. We were especially lucky. We were all together at the Burrow.  Bill and Fleur got married that day. My Dad could have been there as well. He worked at the Ministry; still does."  George's eyes clouded over with what it might have been for him that day if things had been different.

"Bill got married on the 1st of August last year?"

"Yes."

"I turned eighteen," she said, staring out, remembering that day.  "He and Mam gave me this watch at breakfast, replacing my original one from the year before. I had broken it when I fell off my brother's broomstick, and in the afternoon, we were supposed to have a picnic at the old Welsh dragon colony, but Dad got called in to work. He kissed me on my forehead and handed me a small package with a green ribbon, and I never saw him again."

"What was in the box?"

"Y ddraig werdd. The green dragon. The necklace you're wearing." His eyes widened as he realised the significance of his memento. "My mam gave it to Dad when he was named captain. He stopped playing and joined the Ministry after that boy died at Hogwarts."

"Cedric.  I was there, but you didn't go to Hogwarts." He meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. He took a long drink from her pint.

"No, but my brothers did. My parents were very protective of us.  Cadi and I went to an all girls' school in Gwynedd. It was a day school, so we still lived at home. In seventh year, when they required it, I was sent to Hogwarts with the other pureblood students. I was sorted into Gryffindor."

"Were your brothers in Gryffindor?"

"Hufflepuffs.  I think Celyn played against your brother Charlie. I remember the name Weasley followed by a lot of swearing. Cel is seriously competitive."

George chuckled. "Charlie has that effect on people." Rhia smiled, and bit her lip when George touched her hand delicately.  "It sounds like the perfect childhood."

"It was."

"Why did your mum throw you out?" He stared intently into her eyes until Rhia looked away sadly.

"Two lasagnes and salads. Two more bitters?" The waitress came out of nowhere, carefully setting down their plates on the table.

"Cheers," George responded. "Two more."

"George–"

"It's fine. Two's my limit."

"But you're drinking mine; that's four."

"It's two for one; it doesn't count." He laughed, taking a long drink, finishing hers.

"George, you could charm cheese."

"Nah, my mum's the cheese charmer." They made short work of their meal. Neither realised how hungry they were until their food arrived.

"Mm," Rhia commented. "This is delicious. What an excellent place." She looked up at the dark beams across the bright white ceiling and the tiffany lamps that were just coming on as it grew darker with the approaching night. George glanced at her, and could not keep his grin contained. "What?" she asked, her cheeks turning pink.

"You have some…lasagne…sauce." He pointed a finger.

"Where?"  Rhia was becoming embarrassed.

George budged closer, and rubbed the corner of her mouth with his thumb.  He paused, looking at her lips, his own curving into a smile, looking at his thumb covered in the red sauce. The sauce disappeared from his thumb as he put it in his own mouth.

"Hey, that was mine."

"Come and get it then," he teased. He was surprised when he went back to his full fork to feel her hand on his cheek, and when he turned to face her, her lips were against his. He dropped his fork with a clatter, and cupped her face, deepening the kiss considerably. His breath quickened when he felt her tongue on his, both soft and rough, and he moved his hands around her back, pulling her against him. She smiled against his mouth and he pressed another sweet kiss to her lips before turning back to his plate. "I think you like me," he said smugly, taking more lasagne into his mouth with a grin.

"Just a bit, cariad." she said, resting her hand on his thigh for a moment before reaching for her own fork. He quivered at her touch, looking at her profile as she went back to her lasagne and ice water.

"George, what're ya doin' here?" They both looked up at the man standing next to their table.

"Oliver," George laughed. He stood to shake Oliver Wood's hand.  "What are you doing here?"

"Tea, mate. My parents live near here. I'm gettin' some takeaway. You?"

"We wanted someplace where we didn't know anyone. Oh sorry, Oliver, this is Rhiannon Jones. Rhia, this is Oliver. We played Quidditch together at school. He plays for Puddlemere now."

"Lovely to meet you," they both said together. Rhia put out her hand and grasped Oliver's.

"So, you two dating now?"

"First one tonight."

He nodded at the bartender's call to pick up his food. "Enjoy. See ya next week, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Oliver shook Rhia's hand again, and Rhia knew it was time to go home.  What are the chances that they would know someone here? What, indeed. As Rhia put the last forkful of pasta in her mouth, she felt George's eyes on her, and when she looked at him, he grinned.

"Before Ollie came over, you called me something, you had before then as well. What does it mean?"

She chewed faster, and he laughed, and finally she was able to speak.  "Which?"

"Cari-something." "Cariad?"

"Yes, cariad. What does that mean? I thought Sior was George."

"Sior is George. Cariad…it's –" Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "It's…it's like your English 'love', only a bit stronger. It's love, darling, sweetheart; something like that."

"Only stronger?"

"Yes," she said as she looked away.

"So I'm your sweetheart?" He was beginning to look smug again, and Rhia blushed deeper.

"If you want to be." She hesitated, taking a sip of her water, and then looked at George out of the corner of her eye, and added softly, "cariad." He smiled, not looking at her, finishing off his pint with a raised eyebrow.

They returned to Diagon Alley, apparating in front of the Leaky Cauldron, and walked through the Alley hand in hand. It was a cool night and as they walked, Rhia leaned her head on George's shoulder.  They paused in front of Magical Menagerie, looking at the animals in the front window. Most of them were sleeping at this late hour, but a kitten was pawing at the glass, trying to find a way out.  Rhia pressed her fingers into George's palm, drawing his attention to her. "How did you lose your ear?"

He pulled her closer to his chest; she could hear his heartbeat and noticed that it was beginning to beat faster. She heard him inhale a deep breath before speaking.

"I don't usually talk about it."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business."

"It's all right, Rhia. I don't normally talk about it, but I trust you." He kissed the top of her head, continuing in a quiet voice. "It happened two summers ago," he began.

"It was right after Professor Dumbledore was killed. Harry Potter needed to go into hiding, but the Death Eaters were after him, and of course, Voldemort, too." He cringed slightly at the name, but he was getting used to saying it now. "There were fourteen of us, including Harry, and six of us took Polyjuice Potion and we became decoys for Harry. We looked exactly like him. We had broomsticks, thestrals, and even a flying motorbike. I was on a broomstick with Remus Lupin, Teddy's dad. Do you remember Teddy?" As she nodded, he continued, "We were escaping Harry's Muggle house on a broomstick and we were surrounded by twenty, maybe thirty Death Eaters; I was hit from behind by a curse. Luckily, Remus kept me on the broom and got me back to my parents' house where my mum stopped the bleeding and saved me, but I left my ear in Surrey." He smiled.

They were still holding hands and she looked at him sadly. "That's appalling." She reached out and touched the empty space where his right ear should have been. He didn't ordinarily like people to touch him there, but when she ran her fingers across his skin under his hair, he felt soothed. He was about to lean down and kiss her when she spoke again. "Did everyone else make it back okay?"

He nodded. "Everyone, except Mad-Eye Moody. He died that night. Dung skipped out. He's fine, though – he always took care of himself first," he added bitterly. She remembered the man grabbing him in The Hog's Head a couple weeks ago. His name was Dung as she recalled. He continued, "Let's see, Fred, Remus and Tonks all died at the Battle of Hogwarts almost a year after that. Remus and Tonks were married. They had just had Teddy almost a month before they died. Everyone else is still alive and doing pretty well, I guess. Practically my whole family has some kind of scar.  Losing an ear isn't so bad. I can actually hear on my right side, but sometimes I pretend that I can't." He smiled conspiratorially, and she laughed.

"I'll have to remember that. You're a devious sneak, you are."

He laughed, but stopped abruptly and kissed her, not wanting to part from her lips. He smiled again, and they continued until finally arriving at the doorstop of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where they both felt the awkwardness of the first date ending envelop them. Should he leave her at the door? Should he walk her up? Should he kiss her? Would there be…well…sex?  He looked into her eyes, and his breath was gone from his lungs.

The moonlight reflected from them, and he could count the freckles across her cheeks. He smiled cautiously and then lightly shoved her up against the door, arms encircling her waist, and his lips were on hers yet again. So soft, he thought, so moist, so…mmm, tasty. When her arms went around his neck, he leaned his legs around hers and as their kiss finished, their foreheads touched as if in their own embrace. He whispered into her hair. "Do you remember yesterday when you said 'no sex on the first date'; you were taking the mickey, right? You didn't really mean it?" His hand caressed her back through the fabric of her shirt, sliding upwards until he was playing in her hair and tracing her ear with one finger. She grinned and kissed his lips again and then his chin.

"Actually, George, I was serious. I know it's ironic and maybe even a bit odd. I want to know you…a little better." Her brows furrowed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He kissed her forehead. "You go up, I'm just…I'm going to take a walk…burn off some of this…energy."  He laughed. "I'll be home soon. All right?"

She nodded, and after he unlocked the door for her, he turned to leave, but she wouldn't let go of his hand. He turned back, and she jumped into his arms, hugging him, nestling her face in his neck as he stooped down to rest his chin on her shoulder. "I really…like you, George. I had a lovely time tonight."  She kissed his neck and his cheek, and as she pulled back, she said, "Will you take me out again?"

He grinned broadly, knowing that there would be another cold shower in his future. "I'd like that. A lot. Now, I have to go before I can't control myself." She laughed as he pushed her into the doorway and the stairs leading up to the flat.  "I won't be long," he said, striding back down the Alley, back towards the Leaky. She closed the door, leaning her back against it, thinking about their special evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter End Notes:
> 
> Glossary Guide
> 
> Y ddraig werdd – the green dragon (literally: the dragon green)
> 
> Cariad– love, sweetheart, darling, dear
> 
> Llyn Cowlyd – this is a lake (llyn) in N. Wales
> 
> Gwynedd– a region in N. Wales (in modern Wales, it is a county)
> 
> Author's Note: Since there has been much conversation recently about Brit-picking, I thought I should add this note in regards to the food that George and Rhia ate on their first date. I know that lasagne is not typical British pub fare, however I actually have been to TheunnamedInn in Pitlochry, Scotland, and my friend and I both had the lasagne (although when I checked online, it is no longer on the menu) for lunch after our hike up and down Craigower Hill. It was a dark, old-fashioned pub, and the lasagne was not very good (I actually made note about it in my journal at the time), which may explain why it is no longer on the menu. George and Rhia enjoyed theirs much more; could have been the company, though. I have decided to change the name of the Inn, so as not to offend anyone.


	7. The Secret's Out

George gazed out the front shop windows at the setting sun, actually looking forward to closing. In the early weeks after Fred's death, George was consumed with working in the shop; he kept busy, selling the products that he and Fred had had so much fun creating and perfecting. They created the products together; they set up the shop together; they worked the floor together. Then, they went upstairs and relaxed together, cooking and eating and hanging out with friends. They occasionally helped the Order, providing a meeting space and developing defensive products for them and others resisting the Ministry takeover by Voldemort's sympathizers. With Fred gone, George only wanted to be in the shop, if only to feel closer to him. There were actually a couple of nights when George fell asleep, sitting on the floor behind the counter, his face still wet with tears. He hated the emptiness of the flat.  The shop never felt empty. Down here, Fred was everywhere.

George stretched his back, scratching the nape of his neck, his fingers catching in the chain there. He slid one finger along the links until he was touching the Welsh dragon, and he smiled. _Y ddraig werdd_ , he remembered. He hadn't realised how much he needed Rhiannon when she came back into his life. Her problems gave him a focus away from Fred's death and his own sorrow. He wasn't able to concentrate so much on his own loneliness when he needed to support her.

They had gone on their first date almost two weeks ago, and despite their extraordinary beginnings at Hogwarts they had managed to refrain from any serious sexual encounters, preferring to get to know each other better. It was not easy, continuing to share a bed in the one room flat. George replaced his two chairs with one sofa, so they could sit together. He would often put on the wireless and watch the glow from the fireplace while Rhia lay across the sofa with her head on his lap, reading. She had taken to charming the book cover, so George couldn't tell which novel she had borrowed.  He was very frustrated at not being able to ruin another book, but still held high hopes. They had been sitting like this one day last week while George's fingers played in Rhia's hair. She had been complaining that she needed to get it trimmed, but he wanted her to keep it longer; he liked to play with it. He remembered that day clearly – they heard the door open and close and footsteps ascending the stairs. They looked at each other and George called out to whoever it was.

They saw Katie as she came around the sofa that afternoon, carrying a broomstick, decked out in her Quidditch gear.

"What are you dressed up for?" he laughed.

"Quidditch," she stated simply.

"No.  Really? Not a fancy dress ball?"

"No.  Really. Quidditch. Pick-up game in MacMillan Park."  His eyes widened when she added, "Fancy getting your lazy arse off the sofa and playing a bit?"

He knew that Rhia was watching him as he tried to contain his impending excitement, and when he was about to turn Katie down, Rhia spoke up.

"Go on, then." He looked at her face, and she reached up to rub his stubbly chin, saying again, "Go on."

"I'd rather –"

"Play," she had finished for him. She sat up, so he could jump off the sofa and get changed.

He frowned remembering the look on Katie's face when he had invited Rhia to come along. Rhia tied her trainers and grabbed her rucksack and jacket, pushing her book into the side pocket. She turned towards the other two as Katie was adjusting George's elbow pad, and it seemed to George that Katie was waiting until Rhia was watching them before she leaned closer to George, and kissed him on the lips.

He lurched back in surprise. "Katie," he said in a serious tone. "What was that?"

"It's been a long time, if you don't remember."

Standing at the display counter, he remembered painfully that in that moment, he realised that he hadn't seen Katie since before he and Rhia began dating a few days ago. He spoke to her quietly, hand on her arm; she was visibly disappointed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rhia move into the kitchen. He was glad that she stepped away, seeing how much he was hurting his friend. Katie touched his face, and he remembered nodding. She leaned in again, this time kissing his cheek. She went down the stairs, quietly closing the door.

"George," Rhia said softly. "I'll stay here. I don't want to cause more trouble." She came around the worktop, dropping her things on the sofa.

He encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her closer, looking into her eyes.

"I'm hurt," he said, pouting, but his eyes were twinkling. "I cannot believe that my girlfriend doesn't want to watch me play Quidditch. Do you have any idea how sexy I am when I play Quidditch?" He began to kiss her neck slowly. "I'm irresistible after a game, all hot and sweaty."

"And smelly, I bet."

"Only one way to find out. Watch me play."

"Katie's upset."

"Mmm hmm," he said, kissing her neck with a bit more force.

"She's your friend, George. I don't want to come between you and your friends."

"Hmm.  Are you giving me permission to sleep with her?"

"No," Rhia said quickly.

George laughed. "She was my friend first. She'll come around. Come on."

So Rhia went, and George was right. Katie had begun to come around; not easily, but she was actually nice to Rhia. Well, polite anyway, George conceded in his head. Katie wasn't the only one to surprise him. In the two weeks that they had been steadily seeing each other, he and Rhia spent their free time walking around the Alley – having ice cream at the shop next door, grabbing a cup at the cafe up the road and popping in for a couple of meal at The Burrow with his family. He wasn't terribly surprised when his mum made some kind of commentary, but when Ginny said some nice things and actually called Rhia his girlfriend, he wondered when he got so lucky. The last time at The Burrow, Percy had actually joined him against Ron and Harry in a two on two Quidditch game and when Ginny wanted to play, Rhia joined in, making it interesting by playing against him. He smiled at the memory, wondering why he was surprised she should be a good player.

*

He let the dragon fall below the neckline of his shirt, and began to tidy up. Ten more minutes 'till lock up, he thought. He had sent Rhia upstairs early. She seemed a bit peaky and lately she was tired. He tried again to persuade her to see a Healer; he'd offered to pay for anything she needed, but she refused to let him.

She had received an owl this morning that made her run into the office, sobbing. George had essentially left the shop unsupervised to check on her. She sobbed harder as he held her in his arms, but it did have a calming effect on her. She shoved the parchment into her jeans pocket and wouldn't show it to George, nor would she talk to him about it. The chime rang and as the door opened, George returned to the present, surprised to see his oldest brother Bill. "What brings you in – love potions or daydream charms?"

"You've seen Fleur. Do you think I need either?"

George simply smiled. "What brings you in then?"

"Do you want to meet at the Leaky?"

"Tonight?  No. I have plans with Rhia tonight."

"Love potion?"

"I don't need a love potion."

"No, but she might."

George raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. "Have fun. See you at Mum's Sunday?"

"George, aren't you coming Friday? It's Harry's birthday.  Won't you be there?"

"Of course. I just forgot. Have fun tonight. Time to lock up." He waved Bill off as he locked the door and extinguished the shop's lights.

When George reached the top step he smiled, seeing Rhia's legs dangling over the side of the sofa, her head propped up on pillows and beyond her the glow of the fireplace.

"Which one is it today?" he asked with a laugh, striding over and kissing the top of her head. George only had a select collection of books to choose from, and he obviously had been wrong when he thought she had read them all. She tilted the book closer to her nose, still reading, so he could read the cover. Which Witch.  He chuckled, shaking his head. Angelina told Fred that he should read more trashy romance novels to help his own pathetic love life when she gave it to him last year. Rhia looked to be about halfway through it. "You know, when Ollie comes back from the war, and finds Morgana dead, he sleeps with her sister, Megan and then he and Megan get married and Morgana's not actually dead.  There's a sequel, I think. I can ask Ange for you."  She glared at him over the top of the book. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as she scowled.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked. When he shook his head with a grin, she thumbed to the end and read the last three pages.  "You stupid git, George! I hate when you do that!  That's the third one! Bloody hell!" She slammed the book against her knees. George had already begun dinner during her tirade. Rhia got a whiff of the familiar pepper sauce that he put on the pasty meat. This was the second time in two days that he was making pasties at her request. She was pleased that he remembered. When her tone evened, she spoke again, "So, what's for supper?"

He smiled, looking up. "Pasties."

"Again?"

"I thought you loved my pasties."

"I do."

"I sometimes think that you're only staying here for my pasties."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."  He noticed the change in her tone and he looked up at her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you want me to leave, George?"

"No," he said quietly, seeing that his usually witty banter was not going as he had intended.

The door to the street opened and closed at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, George," a voice called up.

"Come on up, Katie."

"Katie?" Rhia questioned George, who didn't answer.

"Oh. You're cooking. I thought we'd go for a pint," Katie said as she stepped off the stairs and into the flat

"Why don't you stay? There's always plenty."

"That's true," Rhia interjected before Katie could answer.  "Especially since I won't be here." She put on her jacket and grabbed her bag.

"Where are you going? You love my pasties," George laughed.

"Flat hunting. I've obviously overstayed. Enjoy your supper."

She turned to leave, but when she reached the stairs, his hand on her arm stopped her.

"Rhia–"

"I'll see you later, George. You've made your feelings quite clear."

He was stunned. He honestly didn't know what he'd done, where he'd gone wrong. "Rhia –"

"Let me go," she said firmly, looking from his face to his hand on her arm and back up again.

He frowned and lifted his hand from her slowly and she descended the stairs. He stood there for a minute and heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs, waiting, hoping she'd forgotten something.

"Trouble in paradise?" Katie laughed, enjoying the moment a little too much.

"Leave it," George responded nastily as Rhia closed the door with a slam.

*

When Rhia returned hours later, the moon was shining in through the small window. George was sitting crookedly on the sofa with the book Rhia had left lying against his chest, his head angled off to one side, asleep. There was a small plate, still warm on the worktop with three pasties. George must have used a warming spell on the plate thinking she'd be right back. She had planned on staying out until the morning, but the Leaky was full.  She was lucky to run into Bill Weasley (at least, according to Bill she was) and when the Leaky closed, he walked her back to the flat, thinking she was too drunk. She could tell he was feeling protective of his younger brother's girlfriend when he said she shouldn't be out alone so late. She had had only butterbeer all night, but appeased him and allowed him to be the big brother. She had certainly missed her own.

She glanced over her shoulder at George's sleeping form, and snatched one of the pasties, taking a large bite. Delicious, as always. Even better than usual, she thought as she popped the last bit into her mouth. On her way to the bed, she covered George with the tattered afghan, pausing, and then kissed his forehead lightly.  She walked to the bed and was stripped down to her knickers before she noticed that she couldn't find her nightshirt. She lifted the bedcovers and looked under the pillow. She looked under the bed and turned towards Fred's bed to see if it was on the floor.  It wasn't. Did she leave it in the bathroom this morning?  Perhaps, George chucked it into the laundry. She reached for the shirt she had just removed, intending to put it back on when she felt a man's arms coming around her waist, his mouth, warm and feathery on the back of her neck, moving her hair aside with his nose.

She was startled with the familiarity in which his hands stroked her stomach, dipping one finger into her belly button, his thumb catching for a moment on her knickers, tugging, but really just teasing.  She knew, of course, that it was George, even though he said nothing and she did not turn to face him. His mouth barely touched her neck and his breathing was hot against her cool skin. His fingers grazed the underside of her breast causing her to sigh audibly. She took half a step forward, trying to break their contact, but he stepped forward and pulled her back against him at the same time, licking her ear and then inserting his tongue there as well, tracing it, and pushing forward into her with his hips.  When she thrust back to meet him, he could almost not contain his excitement.

"George," she breathed out, not knowing what else to say, tilting her head back until it lay on his chest. She bit her tongue as his hand grazed her hips to cup her arse, and then he slowly caressed her thigh. She could feel him prodding her through his jeans and pressing himself into her back.

"I'm sorry I ruined the book for you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss behind her ear. "I love that you love my pasties."  He pressed another kiss to her neck. He turned her around slowly, kissing her shoulder and then her collarbone and then tilted his head away so he could gaze longingly at her body for a prolonged moment. He tugged her against him again, kissing her ear once more, and whispered into it, "I want you to stay here, in my flat and in my bed…with me. Please don't go."

As he said the last word, his lips were on hers; gently kissing her, and then as their intensity grew, he used his tongue to explore her lips and inside her mouth, at the same time gently pushing her down on the bed. He smoothly, tenderly even, explored her body, lazily touching every inch of bare skin. Her body seemed different than he remembered from just a few short months ago, but pleasurable and incredibly arousing under his fingers. Her breasts seemed fuller, her hips rounder.

"I want you," he whispered. "Can I have you?" He kissed her again. "Please." He reluctantly stopped touching her and looked into her eyes, trying very hard not to let his gaze wander lower.

She reached out her hand and stroked his cheek and then sat up. He released a disappointed breath that she was rejecting him…until she began lifting his shirt up, bringing it over his head. Then she was grazing her fingernails up his sides, massaging his chest, touching his shoulders on the way. When he helped with the shirt, she unbuckled his belt and carefully dragged his zipper down. This was not an easy task and he practically fell out of his jeans.

"Sorry," he murmured into her shoulder.

"Don't be," she said as her fingers reached below his waistband, tangling in his hair, finally grabbing him tightly with strong fingers.  She laughed as he moaned and shifted, sliding easily out of his jeans and boxers. He kissed her deeply as two fingers slipped into her knickers, yanking them down. She shimmied out of them and when he slid inside her this time, it was much easier. She didn't cry out or pull at his hair or tense up, but she was so warm and wet, hot and tight, and as he continued to kiss her, she shuddered and moaned into his mouth causing him to moan back with equal fervour.

"Oh George!" She felt his warmth spread through her. He lay on her for a moment catching his breath, then rearranged his body to her side, nuzzling his face against one breast while she lay her head in his hair. Every so often, he would flick his tongue out to play with the nearest nipple while his thumb moved in circles stroking the other one. She fingered his ear and tugged on his hair, completely content, murmuring into his forehead.

"I could lie like this forever," he said into her breast, kissing her there yet again. He rubbed a hand across her stomach, eliciting a giggle and when he licked her again, she moaned out his name, arching her body, entwining them closer. They fell asleep kissing and wrapped around each other, a tangle of hair and limbs with drops of sweat clinging to their skin.

When he awoke next, George kept still, watching Rhia, lying next to him, asleep in his bed. It felt so natural, waking up, feeling her body moulded into his, fitting neatly against him with his arms around her. He was comfortably warm with her body pressed so close against him. He could hear and feel her soft breathing.  He smiled and kissed her ear, the only thing he could reach without disturbing her slumber.

It was still dark, and he groaned silently, wanting only to remain in his bed with Rhia beside him until she woke up. Unfortunately, he had told Verity that he would go down early and change the shop's displays. He also promised himself that with the new month coming at the end of the week, he would get back into his workshop.  There were several experiments that needed tending and several more that needed starting.

He looked at Rhia's face again; so peaceful, so beautiful. He smiled to himself. He could not remember ever having been so content, so much more like himself in recent days. He was glad that she was in his life. This woman who was a chance meeting was going to change his entire life, and while he still felt sad when he glanced at Fred's empty bed, he looked at the woman next to him in his own, and was happy. He rose from the bed slowly, taking great care not to disturb her sleep. He was quick in the shower and grabbed a cold muffin for breakfast as usual. He scrawled out a note and slipped it painstakingly into Rhia's hand. He brushed his lips against her forehead and then touched them to her lips before resting his hand lightly on her hip and running it down her thigh, stopping at her knee before scurrying down his flat's staircase, smiling, feeling nothing but wonder at his recent blessing that was Rhiannon Jones.

He was glad that Verity wasn't in the shop as he skipped in, almost lightheaded. He began jotting notes on a bit of parchment –the displays he wanted to change, new joke sweets to invent. He was still smiling as he slipped out for Gringott's, when Verity finally arrived.

Upstairs, Rhia was just awakening. She was surprised to find herself alone in George's bed. She stretched and yawned like a cat, and as the warm blanket slipped off, landing in a heap on the floor, a cool draft came in from the window above and she realized she was naked. Reaching out, she grabbed the closest thing from the floor and slid her arms into the too big sleeves as the too long shirt came down past her bum. She found the bit of parchment on the bed, and leaned against the wall, relishing in the scent of George still permeating his shirt as it warmed her body while she fastened the buttons. Wearing his overlarge shirt, she felt comfortable and content as if his arms were still around her as they had been throughout the night. She had woken up a couple of times in the night and when she felt George's arms around her, keeping her safe and cosy and his warm breath on the back of her neck, she felt content and protected and even blissful. She began to read the parchment in her hand, _"Rhia, my love. I have to open the shop and then get off to Gringott's. I know you have plans today – it's Wednesday. You don't need to wait around. I'll catch up with you later. Meet me at closing. George."_ She smiled and instantly decided how she would surprise him when she returned from her Wednesday outing.

Arriving at the shop, Rhia peeked inside. It was crowded, and she could see George behind the counter, struggling to keep up with the clamouring customers. Verity was nowhere to be seen. She pushed the door open, and George was about to groan, something he never did with the arrival of a new paying customer, but then he saw Rhia and his face lit up. "Rhia, am I glad to see you.  I know you're off today, but can you help me out? Verity's gone home with some bug – probably the same one you've had these last few weeks. Can you work the rest of the afternoon?"

She smiled and nodded, rushing to grab her work robes from the stock room. Somehow, she didn't think that Verity had the same stomach ailment that she did. She laughed and was behind the counter in a flash, ringing up the queue at the till while George assisted customers with their questions and got the stock out and into their eager waiting hands. It took almost two hours, but finally, they had waited on the last person – a young boy getting ready for his first year at Hogwarts with his mum. It was hard to believe that the new term was starting in four weeks. As they exited the shop to the tinkling of the bell, Rhia and George breathed a sigh of relief, and simply stood still for a moment or two, relishing in the quiet.

"Cheers, Rhia. You've saved me. Can you stay on until close?"

"Sure.  I'd be happy to."

George pulled her into an embrace, kissing her. "Cheers. I'll be in the workshop for a bit. When Lee comes, you can lock up and bring him down." George slipped from behind the counter, and turned to go, but paused at the curtain when Rhia began stammering.

"What?  Who? I can't close up."

"Sure you can. Lee's a mate, he should be here soon. Tall, black, dreadlocks. I'm sure you'll know him. When he comes in, just lock the front door and turn the sign to closed.  You'll do fine."

"I've never closed before, George."

"You're just locking the door. You'll be fine," he reassured.

He smiled and then disappeared through the curtains. Rhia inspected the shop. She didn't think she'd ever been in here alone before. She smiled, thinking about how excited George looked when he mentioned his workshop. She rubbed her palm across her stomach. She thought that tonight would be a good time to tell George about the baby. She wandered over to the Muggle section. After spending almost every day off in the Muggle world lately, either simply wandering about or at her doctor's appointments she was beginning to feel like a Muggle herself.  This section had marked playing cards and rubber chickens and fake poop. Who would want fake poop? She just couldn't understand the joke.

The bell tinkled and her voice caught in her throat as she turned to greet her first customer completely on her own.

"May I help you?" She smiled in relief. The customer was tall and black with dreadlocks. He was quite handsome as well, and he returned her smile with a stunning one of his own.

"You must be Rhia." He extended his hand as she approached him.  "George's told me a lot about you. It's lovely to finally meet you." He grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the top of it. "Forgot to mention how pretty you were though." She blushed, but before she could say anything in response, the building shook and the shelves rattled and a loud KABOOM echoed up from the workshop in the basement. She grabbed Lee's arm to steady them both.

"Oh no! George!" Rhia cried out. "Lock the front door!" she called to Lee, as she ran to the stock room and the workshop stairs. She took the stairs two at a time, tripping over the last one. The workshop was filled with smoke and one of the workbenches was on fire.

" _Inferno nox_ ," she shouted, directing her wand at that bench, and the fire immediately extinguished. She waved the wand around her head, beginning to dissipate the smoke. Lee joined her below the bottom step. He met her eyes for a moment before they both surveyed the room. Where was George?

"Maybe he disapparated," Lee suggested, answering the silent query between them.

Finally, as Rhia's eyes adjusted to the darkness and the smoke began to clear away even more, she saw his boot sticking out from under an overturned workbench. She felt sick and for a moment couldn't breathe or speak. She rushed over with Lee at her heels.  She waved her wand, moving the bench off George's crumpled form.  His head was bleeding near his ear and his leg was twisted.  Rhia bit back tears, and Lee was frozen in place, remembering his other best mate with George's face in much the same position only a few months ago. Rhia put two fingers against George's neck and let out a relieved sigh when she found his pulse. His breathing was a bit erratic, but at least he was breathing.  There was a dark burn on his forehead, and a cut on his cheek.  She looked at Lee. "Can you make a portkey?"

"A portkey?"

"To St. Mungo's. If it was just one or two things, I would fix him, but it's his head and face and his leg is definitely broken.  Maybe his wrist as well, and he's unconscious. Can you do it?"

"I'm not authorized," he said automatically, not taking his eyes from George.

"Sorry?  Don't worry about that. You can say I did it." "Sorry?  Oh…I…" he stammered, nodding, not sure why he cared about the protocol. George would be amused when they told him. Lee grabbed an empty beaker that amazingly wasn't broken.  " _Portus_ ," he said, and the two of them supported George, holding his hand to the beaker.

Rhia thought she would be sick when she felt the tug behind her navel where the baby was growing inside her, but she managed to keep her stomach controlled. Maybe the baby knew how important it was for her to stay in control right now. She left George cradled in Lee's arms and struggled to crawl out from under them both, standing unsteadily. She approached the welcome witch.

"Healer MacIntyre?" she asked gruffly. The welcome witch glared for a split second, but then nodded, and Rhia ordered, "Page him, it's an emergency."

When the Healer arrived, he embraced Rhia tightly. "Rhiannon!  My God, how are you? Gruffydd won't tell me anything."

"Ian!  Ian, stop. Listen. I'm fine. This is George Weasley.  He needs help. Now." She rattled off his injuries and offered the Healer a jar of something. Healer MacIntyre levitated George onto a stretcher, and Lee helped push him into the nearest triage room. The Healer smiled at Rhia as he found her diagnosis dead on.

"You should really be a Healer, Rhia," he smiled as he began to work on George.

"I have a job. Cheers. How is he, Ian?" Her voice cracked at the end there, and Lee and Ian both looked at her compassionately, if also a bit confused. To Lee, she and George had only begun dating; only Rhia knew how much more serious their relationship was. Ian had no clue. She bit her lip, losing the battle to contain her tears that were forcing their way out of her eyes. Lee put a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him while Ian worked on George, waving his wand and muttering various incantations. Rhia leaned her head against Lee's chest, finally bursting into tears and sobbing on his shoulder as he struggled to contain his own emotions.

Lee whispered to Rhia, "Should I owl his parents?"

"Yes," Ian answered for her, adding, "But ask the Welcome Witch to use the floo. It will be faster than an owl." He exchanged a look with Rhia that conveyed how serious the situation was, and Lee choked on a sob. He squeezed Rhia's shoulder and left to find the welcome witch. Rhia moved closer, across the bed from Ian, and held George's hand with one of hers, brushing the hair out of his face with the other. Ian was still waving his wand, but he paused to hand Rhia the jar back, motioning for her to take care of it. She took it and unscrewing the cap, put two fingers into the cold creamy whiteness. She covered his forehead gently with the cream. George winced when the cold wetness touched his warm skin, startling her.

"George, can you hear me?" She took up his hand again, and noticing another burn, she covered it in the cream as well. "George.  It's Rhia. Wake up, George." He cried out as Ian straightened his leg, tightening his grip on Rhia's hand, clenching his jaw, spattering some of the white balm on Rhia's robes.  She continued murmuring soothingly in his ear, begging him to open his eyes as she rubbed the cream into his hand and forehead.  She let it sit on his burned skin for ten minutes while Ian fixed his leg and wrist. "Ian, his head is still bleeding in the back."

"I know."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"Nothing's working, Rhia. I'm trying."

"Try harder," she said harshly. Ian looked at her, but she was already cleaning the cream off his head and hand. She smiled faintly as she saw that his burns were now gone. She pocketed the jar in her robe, and took up his hand again, holding it tightly as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You have to save him, Ian." She spoke so quietly Ian almost didn't hear her, and when he looked at her, she had placed George's hand over her stomach as she stared at his unconscious face.

Ian's eyes rose from her stomach to her face, beginning to ask, "Rhia, are you –"

She dropped George's hand as Lee rushed in with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.  "What happened?" Arthur's frightened voice shook and Molly was sobbing.

Rhia and Lee looked at each other, neither of them wanting to be the focal point of his parents' rage and fear. Rhia was the one to speak finally. "I'm not sure. He was in his workshop. Lee and I were upstairs, talking in the shop, and something exploded. We got him here as quickly…I mean…we." Rhia faltered taking up George's hand and brushing his hair with her fingertips.

"There we go," Ian sighed, sounding somewhat pleased. He looked at everyone. "The bleeding's stopped. Let me just –"

He stopped speaking to say the spell, and Rhia felt George's hand squeeze hers.

"George."  She entwined their fingers together as she moved closer to the bed, rubbing her cheek on George's shoulder, bursting into tears all of a sudden. Bloody hormones. His fingers tightened in hers. "Please wake up," she cried.

He groaned in distress. "Would you stop getting bogies all over my shoulder, Rhia?" George said hoarsely. Rhia lifted her head. "That would be sexy if it wasn't so bloody disgusting, love."

Lee burst into laughter and Rhia touched George's cheek where his cut had just been healed. "How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

He rolled his eyes. "Agony. I'm in a lot of pain.  Maybe you could massage me," he winked, rattling off his injuries, "leg, wrist, head, face, right ear."

"You don't have a right ear," she said, kissing his cheek and taking a step away from the bed.

He sat up on his elbows and looked at Rhia. "Did you lock up?"

"Are you serious? You almost died, George."

"Yeah, and I would hate to think of anyone filching my stuff." He turned to the Healer. "Can I go home now?"

"George," his mother started. "You should really –"

"Go home now?" he asked again.

"George," Ian said sternly. "You can go home, but you're on strict bed rest for at least two days."

"Two days?!"

"Or you can stay here for two days."

"Got it. Bed rest. Two days." He reached an arm around Rhia's waist, pulling her back to him. "Will you be my home Healer and ensure that all of my _needs_ are met? I can pay you."

Rhia felt the blush creep up her neck to her cheeks and she frowned as he emphasized the word 'needs', but she leaned over and delicately touched her lips to his. Her lip was quivering, and she thought she would begin to cry again.

"It's all right," he whispered, looking into her eyes and squeezing her close. "I'm well. I'll heal. I'll be fine."

*

"George," Rhia called up the stairs. "Do you need anything?"

"Just you, my love."

She smirked, climbing the stairs. As usual for the past one and a half days, she found George "lounging" in his bed, poring over the shop's books. She handed him a folded parchment.  "This was owled for you."

"Cheers."  He opened the parchment and laughed. "Lee's going to come by this afternoon with a few people, to celebrate my getting out of bed, and then it's off to my house for Harry's birthday supper."  He tried to look at her unobtrusively to gauge her reaction. "I know that Healer MacIntyre's coming to look me over soon," he answered her unspoken admonishment. "I'll stay in bed until he arrives. After that, you and Verity can close up shop and come up for the pre-party party. How'd you get him to make a flat call?"

"Ian?  He's a friend of mine."

"Ian, is it? Boyfriend?"

"He is a boy." She smiled at his frown. It was kind of nice to see him discomfited by her non-existent past. "I have to get back down. Do you want anything?"

He eyed her briefly, then said, "Skive off. Stay with me for a bit."  He patted the bed with his parchment-free hand.

"My boss is a real prat. I need to get back."

"Can I have a glass of water then?"

"Of course." When she brought back the glass, he directed her to place it on his bedside table. "Anything else?" she asked, looking down at his face.

He began to shake his head, but then looked beyond her. She turned her head to see what he was looking at so intently when he stunned her by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down onto the bed. She was out of breath and lying across his lap, looking up into his laughing face.

"George!"

He smiled at her feigned crossness, and he could see the amusement in her eyes. "I happen to know that your boss is not a prat, and that he's not even in today. He's quite ill, and needs some tending." He brought his head down, very close to hers, and without warning, he was kissing her. A shudder went down her spine as their lips met, and when his tongue prodded her lips to let him in, she sighed as her mouth fell open of its own accord, and their tongues met. She could taste the cinnamon from his morning porridge and the coffee that she missed drinking, but there was another taste she remembered that was…just George.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" he asked as their kiss ended.

"I can't," she said, sitting up hastily, unnerved by how much she liked him, how much his kisses affected her.

When she made to rise, he touched her arm, stopping her. "Rhiannon," he whispered. "I nearly died the other day."

"I know. I was there."

"I always want you there. I'll tell Lee 'no party', and you and I can…have some…private time before the Burrow."

"Not this afternoon. Let Lee have his party. He was here as well. He was terrified when you were hurt."

"Okay, but that wasn't a 'no' to private time."

"No.  It wasn't a 'no'. You'll get your private time."  She turned her body to face him, and she smiled and very lightly pressed her lips to his. "I have to go. Prat of a boss, you know."

She relayed the message to Verity about the party. Unfortunately, she already had plans with Quinn Fortescue. When Ian arrived at half-one, Verity left for the ice cream shop and Rhia locked up and extinguished the lights, leading Ian through the curtain and up the stairs where the party was in full swing. Lee had brought decorations as well. Fairy lights were hanging over everything casting a soft glow throughout the flat. Whiz Bangs were flashing and popping. There were two more chairs and the butterbeer and firewhisky were free flowing. George was in his bed, wearing a tall pointy wizard's hat coloured red with orange stripes that clashed horribly with his hair and on either side of him were Angelina and Katie. Rhia frowned when she saw Katie in the bed with George, but walked Ian over.

"George, Ian's here for your exam."

"Oh good," Katie said loudly, "It's time to get naked, Georgie."  She reached over and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Katie!" the other woman exclaimed.

"Come on, ladies," Lee was swiftly there, eyeing George and Rhia and helping the girls off the bed, and away, but Katie remained hovering nearby.

"Rhia," Ian said. "I'll need your help."

"I'm sure Katie can assist you." Rhia turned to leave, but a hand grasped hers, pulling her down on the bed. It was George, and he was looking intently into her eyes.

"I'd rather have my girlfriend help me," he said quietly. "Are you still my girlfriend?" She gave him a small smile.  "And, anyway, didn't they say that I would be naked?"  Katie failed to suppress a scowl, but ruffled George's hair and found another firewhisky, taking it out of Oliver Wood's hand.

"How's he been?" Ian asked her as he felt George's leg.

"Stubborn."

"Hey," George interjected. "I've been a tremendous patient.  I've remained in bed except for that one incident and the occasional jaunt to the loo. I should get a medal for letting you hen me."

"Hen you? That's rich. You're always whinging about your leg, and 'oh my ear.' You don't even have an ear for bloody sakes."

"I have one ear, and it's a little tired of your shrillness."

He looked at Rhia with a grin that she returned, running her fingers through his hair, tracing his ear. "Is he all better now?"

"Good as new."

"Excellent!  So, I can get out of this bloody bed now!"

"I don't know if your girlfriends will appreciate that," Rhia said as George jumped out of bed. He grabbed her hands and twirled her, pulling her into his arms, kissing her cheek.

"I only have one girlfriend, and that's you." She looked at George with a smile and he surprised her with another kiss, this one much more intimate.

"Dance with me," he said into her ear, swaying.

"There's no music, _cariad_."

Lee tapped the wireless with his wand, but before the music even began, George was rubbing her back and kissing the side of her head.  He stroked her hair, and looked into her eyes. He gave her a small smile and as they swayed to the music, George forgot about everyone else in the flat. He surprised her by bending her back and when he pulled her up to stand, she laughed as her hair fell into her face. He brushed the hair from her forehead with gentle fingers and then he tilted his head closer and softly kissed her lips. She put her arms around his neck, twirling his hair around her finger.

Her cheeks warmed when she looked at his face and saw him staring at her and then their eyes met. She sucked in a breath when she noticed his cheeks turn dark, and she knew he wanted her, and she sighed, dropping her head against his shoulder, knowing she would have to tell him the truth; tell him her secret before they slept together again. She clutched him tightly around the waist, pressing her ear close to his chest. She liked listening to his beating heart. She was nervous to tell him about the baby, babies, actually. She hoped he wouldn't be upset; that he would be happy about impending fatherhood.

"Are you all right?"

She looked up at his face. "Spent. I'm really tired."  Her answer left her feeling awkward, but she wasn't lying.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "When do we need to be at the Burrow?"

"About an hour and a half."

He tugged on her hand, leading her to the bed, pushing her gently down.  "George," Lee called over, "there's people here, mate."

"Yes," George said. "And they're about to leave." He leaned down and kissed Rhia. "Rest."

He sat beside her on the bed. Her eyes were half closed; she was teetering and as he carefully laid her down, he kissed her forehead. "Rest for an hour. I'll wrap Harry's gift." She nodded, and was asleep within seconds. She never noticed Lee and the others leaving.

*

After supper and ice cream and birthday cake, everyone found a place to be. A lot of the family was at the Quidditch pitch watching a pick-up game. There was laughing and talking and the reality of the Memorial service tomorrow was far, far away.

"Look," Ginny laughed, pointing, directing Hermione's attention to the other side of small Quidditch pitch in the back of the Burrow.  The evening air blew a cooling breeze across them, whipping unruly strands of hair in their faces. Hermione looked up from her book to see what Ginny found so amusing. Rhiannon was sitting on the grass, back perched against the strong trunk of a tree.  She was trying to pull her hair up in an elastic to keep it from flying in her eyes with each gust of the wind. Her hair was much shorter than George's sister's and she was having trouble keeping it up. Not to mention the fact that each time she lifted her arms up to restrain her hair, Crookshanks lifted his front foot, and had begun pawing at her stomach. Ginny and Hermione could see that Rhia was getting annoyed, gently swatting at the kneazle, telling him sternly to leave her alone. Ginny laughed again as Crookshanks pawed at Rhia's stomach, lifting her loose shirt. Rhia grabbed the hem, yanking it down, and Ginny heard her hiss at the animal, "Stop it, won't you" and then Crookshanks hissed back, pawing her again.

"Come on," Hermione said. "We should rescue her." She rose to intervene, but Ginny's hand on her arm stopped her.  She turned to Ginny, who was no longer laughing at Crookshanks' antics, but staring at Rhia's exposed stomach. "What's wrong, Gin?"

Ginny shook her head, but glared at Rhia. She hopped off the table she was sitting on and marched over, plopping herself in front of Rhia, who smiled at Ginny. Ginny returned her smile with a glare. "What are you playing at?"

"Ginny," Hermione warned, but Ginny put up a hand.

"What do you mean?" Rhia asked with genuine surprise.

"Crookshanks." "Crookshanks?" Rhia and Hermione asked in unison.

Ginny shot Hermione a look, but elaborated. "Crookshanks likes everyone, right, Hermione? Except Scabbers." She looked at Rhia again. "Ron's pet – the rat," she explained.  "The Death Eater."

"You think I'm a Death Eater? That's idiotic. I'm not a Death Eater."

"No, I don't think you are, but there's something."  Crookshanks, as if on cue, pawed at Rhia again, lifting up her shirt, exposing her midriff. "Something. You're hiding something."

Hermione grabbed Crookshanks and sent him away, using her wand to keep him out of their space by the tree, setting up wards around them preventing his return. "Ginny, let's go watch the game."

"I don't think so, Hermione." She turned her attention back to Rhia, who was wincing. "I won't let you hurt my brother.  He's been through enough."

"I would never hurt him. I –"

She had winced again, and when she instinctively put her hand over the buttons of her shirt, Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh Merlin's pants, you're pregnant." Hermione instantly turned away from Crookshanks' lurking.

"Is it George's? Does he know?" Ginny continued. Rhia began to breathe erratically, her eyes tearing up as she stared into Ginny's angry face, noticing that she shared her brother's eyes.

"Please don't tell him." Her voice was quivering as she fought the urge to cry.

"If you're trying to pass off some other –"

"I'm not. Please. Ginny," she begged. She reached a hand out, but Ginny jerked back out of reach.

"Why haven't you told him?"

"I was going to tell him…but he…he blew up the workshop.  Please don't say anything. I want to be the one," she pleaded.

"You have until tomorrow. The tea after the memorial. Agreed?"

Rhia nodded slowly, but remained silent.

"Is everything all right, Rhia?" The three women looked up in surprise at George's concerned face. "Are you all right?"  He kneeled down beside her, touching her knee, putting his face very close to hers.

Ginny spoke up quickly. "We were talking about that last year for her at Hogwarts, and I'm afraid I've upset her. I'm sorry Rhia." Ginny reached out and touched her knee. "We'll have to talk tomorrow after the memorial. I'm going to watch Harry play. Coming, Hermione?"

Rhia watched them walk away, hearing the thinly veiled threat in Ginny's innocent words and tone.

Rhia took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Between her father's memorial and George's younger sister, tomorrow was shaping up to be a barrel of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter End Notes:
> 
> Welsh glossary: 
> 
> cariad – love, sweetheart, darling   
> Y ddraig werdd – the green dragon   
> Mam – mum, mother


	8. The Secret's Out, No, Really

Rhia awoke with a start. It was still dark out and her stomach felt full. She ran to the bathroom, barely getting there in time.  My bladder must be the size of a corn kernel, she thought dismally.  Didn't the doctor say something about the baby sitting on my bladder? Oh great, what a fun time this is turning out to be.  George was sitting up on his elbows when she returned to the bed.  "Are you all right, love?"

She silently nodded but then realised that except for the faint fairy lights that remained, the room was dark.

"Fine.  Cheers." She climbed into the bed alongside him, snuggling under the covers next to his warm body. George lay back down as she shimmied close, contouring her body back into his and he rested one hand on her hip. He smiled when he touched the bare skin showing. She was wearing her usual nightshirt, and thin cotton knickers on her bum. Funny how something so unsexy still managed to get him all hot and bothered. He enjoyed this new closeness in bed; a few days ago they'd moved their relationship in this new direction. His fingers slid across her warm skin, gliding along her thigh. She twitched at his first touch, his fingers both rough and soft at the same time on skin that was so much more sensitive since she became pregnant. He began smoothing his hand slowly from her hip to her knee and then she felt one finger flit behind her thigh and his hand slip between her legs. She tried to muffle her sigh, but even as she bit her lip, she couldn't contain the sound escaping her throat. He smiled, nipping at her ear with his teeth and kissing her neck, letting his tongue drag along her nape. He moved her knickers aside with his thumb and used his two longest fingers to press onward.

"Oh." She moaned out as she deliberately pushed back against his firmness, and George couldn't help but smile again, enjoying her reactions to his touch. His fingers were slick with her desire for him, and he so wanted to taste her. He began to salivate thinking about bringing his hand up, but instead tried to separate her legs with his knee. He paused when he felt her become tense.

"George, please," she breathed out.

"I'm trying," he laughed.

"No, please wait. I need…we…we need to talk; about my family."  She was panting now, and despite her words and her hands gently pushing him away, he could feel how truly disappointed she was.  He reached his other hand into her hair, coiling and tangling in its coarseness. He raked his fingers through several times before she said quietly, "You're distracting me."

"I know," he whispered in her ear, thrusting once more with his already dripping fingers while at the same time nibbling her neck yet again.

"Please," she gasped, her head falling against him, with an almost involuntarily shudder. "George, I really need to tell you now." His own heart began beating wildly in his chest.  She finally trusted him enough to tell him everything. He took a deep breath, and reluctantly stopped all of his movements, even removing his hand from her knickers, letting it rest placidly on her hip once more. She took a deep breath, letting the words out slowly.

"My mam, she threw me out because… George, I'm pregnant.  That's why she chucked me out."

He kissed her ear with a smile and surprised her by plunging his fingers back inside, saying quietly, "I know."

"You know? What do you mean you know?" Rhia turned toward him, unsettling his hand. She gave him an annoyed look when she saw him grinning at her in the dimly lit room.

"I'm not a complete idiot. You throw up every morning. You're always tired. You eat half what I eat and you're still gaining weight. I spoke to Hermione about your symptoms.  I was worried about you. She set me straight."

"She what? When did she tell you that?"

"Hmm.  I don't know. Last week sometime. She gave me a book for you. I have it in my bedside table." He began to reach around behind him, but Rhia grabbed his reaching hand, and brought it up to her lips.

"No worries. I can read it later." George smiled at her, kissing her lips, and moving his hand onto the inside of her thigh, stroking her, his fingers becoming moist and sticky once more as her words caught in her throat.

"George, there's more." His hand retreated again, resting his wet fingers on her knickers.

"Rhia, honestly, what else could there be?"

She ran a finger along his cheek, and when she rubbed it across his lips, he kissed the tip. Her face was very close to his, and when she said the three words, he could feel them on his skin. "You're the dad."

He was quiet for a moment, and then he leaned into her, his lips meeting hers. Her eyes closed, and she felt warm when his fingers caressed the front of her neck. "I'm so glad. I was certainly hoping it was me."

"Are you telling me it didn't matter?"

George shrugged. "Maybe a bit, but not enough." He kissed her nose and her cheek and she almost didn't notice that he was pulling her knickers aside one more time.

She put her hands in his hair as she kissed him, bearing down against him. When their lips finally separated, she looked at his shadowy face, and spoke softly, "There's more."

She managed to pin his hand, so he couldn't move it, and he was flustered as he released a heavy breath in frustration.  "Blimey, Rhiannon, isn't that enough? You're pregnant.  I'm the father. What more is there now? Really, love, what is it?" He sounded bothered, but Rhia could still see that he was smiling and she smiled in return. She didn't respond for a longer time now, and George was becoming increasingly exasperated. "Well?" he asked, trying not to sound as impatient as he was feeling.

"It might be twins."

After a brief moment of stunned silence, he began to laugh. It was contagious, and soon they were both laughing until they were crying, holding each other in the dark and shaking with laughter. When the hilarity subsided, he moved into her and, pulling her closer still, holding her tightly, he kissed her deeply, licking her tongue, biting her lip, teasing her.

"I haven't run away screaming yet, have I?" He smiled gently at her. "I'm not going anywhere. We're all going to be fine. Brilliant, in fact. I don't care if it's two or ten babies in there; we are all going to be just fine." He placed his free hand on her stomach, putting delicate pressure on the small swell just beginning to show. It would definitely be a better day, she thought, but then George spoke up with a grin, "I've told you before. I can't resist a two for one special."

When the new bout of laughter settled down, George caressed her neck with his lips, and slowly slipped his hands under her nightshirt, easily lifting it over her head, and then climbing on her, and with one hand, pinning her arms to the bed over her head, delighting in her breasts with his nose. "Now, love, is there anything else I need to know about you or may I remove your knickers now?"

"Please," she breathed into his hair, kissing him there as he continued his exploration of her.

* *

Rhia woke up first, and smiled, finding George's hand on her stomach.  She felt safe and warm and loved. She turned to face George, his face close to hers on the one pillow. He continued to sleep, snoring softly. She wriggled closer to him and leaned her head on his chest, keeping quiet, not wanting these quiet moments to end. She felt relieved, like a weight had been lifted from her. In telling him her secret, now their shared secret, she felt lighter than air. She listened to his heartbeat and pressed a kiss to his bare chest, feeling wonder that she could just be happy for this moment.

George's arms began reaching around her, soft hands caressing her back.  His lips brushed against her temple and then he slowly made his way down to her lips, kissing her ear, her eye and her cheek on the way. When it begged entrance, she let his tongue make its way inside her mouth, licking her lips and gently separating them to let him in.  She could feel the smile on his lips when she bit his tongue, and she smiled again when he moaned into her mouth. Her hands were in his hair and spiralling circles in his ear as his hands roamed to the front of her, touching her bare breasts unencumbered by the clothes of last night. His mouth moved to her neck and then down, closing his lips over the nearest breast, chewing lightly on her nipple, causing Rhia to tilt her head back, liberating a noisy moan.  George wrapped his arms around Rhia and climbed on her. She draped her leg over his, moving her hips up to meet his. He lifted his head from her breasts, capturing her mouth once more.  Unexpectedly, Rhia pulled away, "George," she breathed out, panting, trying to control her breathing. "We can't."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. I'm sure you can."

"No, stop, _cariad_ ," she said, pushing lightly on his chest. He slowed his advances, and watched her as she looked around, asking, "What's the time?"

He reluctantly turned to his clock. "Half-six.  Appointment?" He nuzzled her neck when he turned back, but she pulled away. He frowned as she rose from the bed, pulling her nightshirt over her head, and watched in disappointment as it glided over her body, hiding it from his sight.

"Actually, the memorial's at nine." She leaned down and kissed him.  "I need to get in the shower. It wouldn't look good if I were late." She took one step, but was pulled back when George wouldn't release her hand. "George, really –"

"When can we tell my parents?" George asked without warning.

"What?"  Rhia seemed stunned by his question, becoming slightly unnerved.  "What do you mean?"

"I'd like my parents to know about our baby. I'd like to tell them. When will we know if it _is_ twins?"

"I…I go back to the doctor in three weeks."

"That's the Muggle doctor. Can't we go to a healer? Hey –your friend, Ian. Can we see him?"

George looked so eager, and Rhia hated the idea of disappointing him again, but the idea of telling his parents truly frightened her; she couldn't imagine what their reaction might be. "George, can't we –"

She stopped and George spoke before looking at her, "Can't we what?"  He looked up at her now, seeing the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked and when she started to shake and cry, he repeated himself. "Rhia, what's wrong?"

"I don't want you…I don't want them…angry with you…because of me."

He bound from the bed, embracing her, stroking her back and gently kissing her cheek. "Rhiannon, my parents won't be angry.  I promise you. They'll be happy, thrilled in fact."

"You have no idea, George," she whispered desperately. "When my mam found out, it was horrible; just dreadful. She slapped me, and she screamed at me and she…called me terrible names."  Her voice was stilted and becoming weaker as she held the memory of her mother screaming at her in her head. She didn't know which was worse – her mam's outcry or her brother, Gruffydd, silently agreeing with her, not defending his sister when she needed him the most. She laid her cheek against George's chest and as George continued to hold her as close to him as he could, she was surprised that her tears did not flow freely.

He kissed her forehead and continued stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. I wish I'd been there for you, but honestly, Rhia, my parents will not react like that. Can I tell you how it will be at my house?" She nodded mutely, not looking at him. "First, we'll tell Mum about you, and she'll be speechless, but only for a second. Mum's never quiet for long. Next, we'll tell her that I'm the dad, and she'll be disappointed in me. She'll say, 'Oh, George,' and that we should have waited, but it was a stressful time, so she'll understand — she'll come round. Then she'll ask when we're getting married, and we'll change the subject and tell her we're having twins, and she'll say, 'Oh George' again.  Oh, and she'll hug you," he laughed.

"George, it cannot possibly be that simple. They'll be cross with me for leading you astray."

"Don't be daft. Fred led me astray long ago. They're going to love you, and if we never get married, you'll still be the mother of their grandchildren." He kissed her head again.  "Trust me on this. I know my parents." He bent down and kissed her cheek again and Rhia watched him enter the bathroom for his shower. She smiled sadly; she had thought she knew her mam as well.

She busied herself with domestic chores waiting for George to finish.  She made the bed, and folded the afghan, placing it over the footboard. She poured out two bowls of muesli, but only put milk on hers, warming it with her wand. She set the kettle for tea and used the floo to contact Ian. When George returned from the shower, he sat on his bed, and he grinned at her when he caught her staring at him again. She smiled. His hair was just as vivid wet as when it was dry. She loved his bright ginger hair. She ran her palm across her stomach – she hoped the babies had his colouring. Her hair was red, but it was so dark, it was almost auburn instead of a true ginger colour. She stared at him as he tied his shoes. He broadened his grin at her when he caught her eye the second time.

"Breakfast," she called to him. "Muesli," she answered before he could ask. He sat at the worktop. "I'm sorry," she continued. "I was starved. I couldn't wait for you to finish. I also flooed Ian." George looked up keenly with milk and muesli dribbling down his chin. She reached over with her napkin, wiping it away. They both laughed, and she went on. "He can see us this afternoon, at half one.  Can you get away from the shop?"

He nodded. "I'll talk to the owner. He and I get on well." He finished his breakfast as she stepped into the bathroom for her shower, and when she emerged fully dressed, she smoothed her dress down over her stomach, trying not to be self-conscious.

"Can you fix my tie?" George asked, putting his bowl in the sink with hers. Rhia turned to face him, and she adjusted his tie with a laugh.

"A bit overdressed for the shop, don't you think?"

His eyes narrowed. "Shop's closed, Rhia." He took her hands from his tie. "You didn't think I'd let you go to your father's memorial alone, did you?"

She observed him, surprised yet again at how caring he was, so grateful she couldn't express it. She finished working on his tie.  "You know, you don't have to –"

"I know." He pulled her close so their cheeks could touch, and pulling a rectangular parcel from his dress robes, he kissed her softly and whispered, "Happy Birthday."

She looked into his eyes with more surprise in her own, and bit her lip, thinking she might begin to cry and took the parcel from his hand.  It was covered in magenta paper and tied with a piece of twine that held a single daffodil. "Thank you. Thank you for remembering." She followed him to the sofa and sat beside him. She opened the paper carefully, revealing a book, The Witch in the Wardrobe.  She turned it over in her hand, seeing the half-naked witch on the cover peering out of a wardrobe while a wizard sat up on his bed.  He also appeared to be half-dressed. She looked at George.

"Now, Rhia, can I tell you the best part about that book?"

"George, you wouldn't dare."

"The best part –"

"George–"

"-is that I've never read this one. It's new."

"Really?" she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his face all over. "Really? You won't ruin it?"

"Auror's honour."

"Thank you George."

"There's more."

"More?" she laughed, kissing his cheek. He handed her a small box, which she tore open eagerly. There was a round locket inside, silver with a cloisonné of a daffodil bouquet.

"It's lovely, George – just beautiful. Thank you." She kissed him again as he placed it over her head, letting it bounce off her chest.

"I've put my picture in there, well, because you should never be without me," he winked, and then added, "but after this morning, I expect you'll want to replace it with the babies once they're born."

"What a good idea." She paused, admiring her gifts again. She placed the book inside her bag. When he raised an eyebrow at that, she responded, "So you can't peek at the end. We should go," she said, laughing. He agreed and they disapparated together.

As they appeared in the Ministry Atrium, Rhia swayed, grabbing onto George's arm to steady herself. "Are you all right?"

She slowly nodded, releasing his arm to prove it. "Just a bit dizzy; a little nauseous. I'm better now."

They both spent a moment looking around the large open space, with the centre now filled with chairs, most labelled with names. Around the perimeter hung banners depicting the many ministry workers who died in the second war against Voldemort. One year ago today was only the beginning of that war. Was it really only one year since the beginning? Things were starting to get better: people were moving on with their lives. Rhia and George were proof of that with their babies that would come in the new year.

Rhia looked at George's face as she looked around and took his hand, leading him left. She easily found her father's banner on that side of the room. She could see a small group crowded near it, which didn't surprise her. Her father still had many fans from his Quidditch days. Rhia tugged on George's hand, and they began to make their way over there. As the other wizards filed past, Rhia stood there looking at the larger than life depiction of her father's head and shoulders, his bright smile showing off the laugh lines around his eyes, his red hair just beginning to thin and change to the silvery hue he'd died with.  George leaned his head down to whisper in her ear, "Are you better? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

She shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes from her father's face, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. George put a comforting arm around her shoulder, placing a compassionate kiss in her hair.

"Rhiannon," a voice called from behind.

Rhia took a deep breath and clinging tighter to George's hand, she turned around, letting a slight smile rest across her lips.  " _Mam, sut wyt ti_?"

" _Eitha da. A chithau_?"

" _Da iawn_."

"I'm so glad you're here." Marared Jones spoke with tears in her eyes and in two strides, she was embracing her youngest daughter.  George was so shocked that he released his hold on Rhia and could see her shaking with her own sobbing. Rhia's two brothers exchanged surprised looks, mouths agape. Her sister stood by in silence. When her mother ended their embrace, she turned to George with a warm smile, but spoke to Rhia. "Is this the boy you've been seeing?"

"Sorry?" Rhia asked breathily.

" _Dy cariad_?  Your boyfriend?"

Rhia stared in disbelief at her mother, thinking that the world had finally gone mad. George hastily thrust his hand out to Mrs. Jones. "Good morning. I'm George Weasley. It's lovely to meet you."

She grasped his hand with a smile. "Are you sitting with us, Rhiannon? I've missed your company."

"No, Mam. We have different seats."

"We'll talk after, then." As she strode away, Gruffydd and Catrin followed, but Rhia detained her brother Celyn.

"What was that?"

Celyn looked from Rhia to George and back again. "I honestly don't know. Mam hasn't been herself lately." He squeezed his sister's hand and followed the rest of their family.

The service was two hours long, and mentioned all of the dead by name.  The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, presided over the service. He was an eloquent speaker, but except for his words about her father, Rhia spent much of the service lost in thought.  Her mother's behaviour baffled her. She could see that it even took her brothers by surprise. She had never been a soft, fluffy woman, but even if you ignored the fact that she had violently thrown Rhia out of the house, you would have thought she'd have been harsher. It didn't seem like a public show, but Rhia supposed it could have been simple politeness out of respect for her father. Rhia hadn't noticed that the service had ended or that the attendees had begun to leave their seats until George touched her knee, and then her hand, putting increasing pressure there until Rhia turned to him.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"What was that with my mother?"

George chuckled. "I have no idea. I expected…a, well, I expected a different reception. Does she know?"

"Does she know what?"

"That I'm…you know…that it's my –"

"No.  Could we not talk about this here?" Rhia smiled and George waved at his parents as they walked by.

"Yeah.  I'm sorry."

They made their way back over to her father's banner, so Rhia could say goodbye to Cadwaladr Jones. George stood off to the side when Rhia's family returned; this time accompanied by another woman and a few children, all boys.

"Rhiannon," a stern voice stated. "What are you doing here?"

Rhia raised her eyes slowly, unsure of the tone. "Mam?"

"Of course. I asked you what you're doing here. Who is this man?" She nodded curtly towards George.

Rhia stared at her mother, confused by the change that had come over her, and remained silent, but George extended his hand, speaking, "I'm George Weasley. We met earlier."

She grasped George's hand. "I don't believe we have.  I'm Rhiannon's mother."

He glanced at Rhia quickly, but spoke politely to her mother.  "Lovely to know you."

She turned back to Rhia. " _Y baban_?"

" _Mae'r y baban yb dda; yn dda iawn_."

"Is this the man you live with now? Is he?" she said loudly before Rhia could answer. She grabbed Rhia's wrist, pulling her closer, twisting it. "Have you been to your father's vault? At Gringotts. It's empty," she said suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"You heard me - your father's vault?"

"It was my vault, Mam. Daddy left it for me. There were only five galleons there," she whispered.

"There was more than that. 150 galleons in fact."

"No, Mam. Only five and that's all I took."

" _Celwyddwraig_!  I want it back." Rhia pulled her arm back, but her mother wouldn't release her, continuing, "That's not true. It was 150 galleons. I want it returned," she shouted, squeezing Rhia's wrist tightly.

"Let go," Rhia cried out, tears beginning to spill. "You're hurting me."

"Mam," Celyn said quietly, but was ignored even when he reached a hand out to his mother.

George interjected, putting out a hand towards Rhia. "I'll pay the money."

"No!" Rhia shouted and continued, "I don't owe any money."

"Rhia, it's all right," George said gently, touching her shoulder.

"It's not all right!" she cried. "She's taken everything from me. She can't have my last five galleons!"

A man's voice boomed. "Marared! _Digon_!"  Rhia's mother opened her hand suddenly, freeing Rhia from her hold, and she fell backwards into George, who caught her, keeping her upright and steady. The man continued to address Rhia's mother. "Do you think he would want this for his daughter?  You embarrass yourself and his memory."

Mrs. Jones took her eyes from him and looked at her daughter again.

" _Celwyddwr_! _Maeden_!" she spat at her. Rhia blinked as tears escaped, stunned.  George didn't understand the words, but her tone left him speechless as he kept his hand on Rhia's shaking back, watching her mother skulk away angrily. They were approached by the man, taller than George by a couple of inches.

"Rhiannon," he said gently. He touched her shoulder with a light touch, but she flinched, blinking back tears. " _Wyt ti da_?"

She nodded, still saying nothing.

He continued, pulling her into his arms. "Anything you need, Rhiannon. You are my brother's daughter – a Jones.  Your mother can't change that. You owl me for anything, and that includes your new family; _y baban a dy cyfaill. Dim, Rhiannon_."  He kissed her forehead, and with a glance at his brother's banner, he stepped away. George reached for Rhia, but she was already running away towards the floos. She disappeared into the green flames before he could catch up.

George spent almost an hour wandering around the Ministry, searching for Rhia. He was hoping she'd return, so he left a message at the entrance of the Atrium, and used a sticking charm to leave a note on a bit of parchment on her dad's old office in case she went up there. He had just apparated into St. Mungo's waiting area.  He checked with the welcome witch, but Rhia hadn't spoken to her.  He sat in an empty chair, and ran his fingers through his hair, resting his face in the palms of his hands. He hoped Rhia would come for her appointment with the healer, but he didn't hold out hope. She hadn't wanted to come here in the first place, preferring the anonymity of the Muggle doctor.

George sensed someone sit down beside him, but he kept his eyes closed, ignoring the bustling sounds around him. An arm threaded through his, taking one hand from his face and entwining their fingers together. His eyes popped open at her first touch.

"Rhia," he said his voice cracking slightly. He reached his other arm around her neck, wrenching her into an embrace, kissing the back of her neck. He breathed in the smell of her hair and whispered into her neck, "I'm so sorry." He laid his forehead against hers and put a hand on her cheek. "You'll never have to go through that again. I promise you that." He pulled her face to him and kissed her with tiny, delicate kisses across her lips each one becoming progressively longer until they had blocked out the waiting area, the sound of the other one's breathing in their ears. "I will never let that happen again."

"Rhiannon Jones." They stared at each other a moment more, and then the assistant Healer repeated herself. "Rhiannon Jones?"

"Are you ready?" George whispered. She nodded silently, numbly.  They stood together and as he kept his hand on her back, he guided her towards the open door, following the assistant healer. She directed Rhia to an exam table, and asked her to change into a hospital robe. George went into the room's toilet to give Rhia some privacy, and remained in there until she asked him to return. Rhia looked around the room. This room was vastly different from the Muggle doctor's office. The pictures on the walls were moving. Healers helping patients, patients thanking Healers. When she noticed one picture of a mother nursing her baby, Rhia smiled, and when George stepped out of the bathroom to check on her, she pointed to it, and he grinned.  She was glad that he was happy about the baby. Things could have actually been much worse for her. She watched him wander around the room looking at the various items. He seemed much less nervous than she was. It wasn't long before Healer MacIntyre knocked and entered the room.

"Hey stranger," Ian said, smiling as he entered the exam room. He hugged her tightly. "I've missed you. How have you been?"

"I've been better."

"Are you ill? Is that why you're here?"

"No.  I'm not ill. You won't tell anyone why I'm here, will you?"

"Of course not. Completely confidential. Let's get started." She nodded solemnly, and Ian turned to George.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, I'll need to ask you to leave now."

"Sorry?" he asked, rising from his chair.

"We're having an exam – you can't stay during the exam."

"But–"

"No, Ian," Rhia stated firmly. "George stays."

"Rhia–"

"Ian," she said in a quiet voice, taking his hand, smiling and looking into her friend's eyes. "I'm pregnant." Ian's eyes widened, and Rhia continued, "That's why Mam threw me out, and, Ian, no one else knows this, but George is the father, and we're here together to find out…well, to find out what we need to know."

Ian looked shocked for a moment, but then his expression changed.  "Okay, then," Ian said. "George stays. How do you know that you're pregnant?"

"I took a Muggle test, and I've been seeing a Muggle doctor since June."

"A Muggle doctor? Are you mad?"

"She's a lovely woman; a bit dotty, but she's been lovely."

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Lie down," he directed. He brought over a small black box on a wheeled cart. Ian inserted his wand into a space at the end of a coiled wire that was also attached to the box. Ian said the spell and began to wave his wand over Rhia's torso beginning at the top of her breasts, and following down over her stomach, finally stopping just above her knees. The black box was humming and when it beeped, Ian took up his wand again and held it steadily over her stomach, and when the box beeped one more time, he disconnected his wand from the coil. "Sit up. Let's listen to your heartbeat." He placed his stethoscope on Rhia's chest, nodding his head. "Sounds good. Lay down again."  He placed his wand over Rhia's uterus, just below her stomach.  He said two words that George and Rhia did not recognise, and the room suddenly filled with the sound of a beating heart. Rhia had heard it before in the Muggle doctor's office, and she looked expectantly at George, a smile on her face.

It was George's first time in this position. He held Rhia's hand and was a little uneasy as Ian was poking and prodding her.  When Ian placed the wand on her stomach, and the room filled with a drum like sound and then when Rhia's eyes found his, he knew that he was hearing the heartbeat of his first child. Rum, bum, bum. Rum, bum, bum. His face hurt from the broadness of his smile. His eyes were lit up in delight. Rhia extracted her hand from his and surprised George by brushing away a tear on his cheek with her thumb. He directed his smile at her, and took her hand again. Ian removed his wand and the room became quiet once more. George could still hear it echoing in his head and he stood up as Ian was reading the papers now spewing out of the black box. He stunned Rhia when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, lingering longer than they'd both expected.

"Well, Rhia," Ian interrupted their intimacy. "Everything looks great. You are 11 ½ weeks pregnant, which makes your due date 6 February."

"Six February?" George interrupted. "That's my Dad's birthday."

Ian continued, "Good, strong heartbeat. I'll have a picture in a moment." Ian paused looking from Rhia to George. He seemed anxious. "I'm not sure how to put this."  George's smile vanished at Ian's tone.

"Is something wrong?" George asked.

"No.  There's absolutely nothing wrong. Um, it's just –"

"Twins, isn't it?" George asked, smiling again, a slight smugness in his voice.

"Yes.  They're twins." George laughed at Ian's discomfort.  "Do they run in your family?"

"I'm a twin. I had an identical brother." He gave Rhia a sad smile.

"Can you tell the sex, Ian?" Rhia asked eagerly.

"Actually, I can't. They're on top of one another, and they're sideways. They're uncooperative; like their parents."  He laughed. "Here's the picture."

Rhia held the paper and George stood to look, placing his head very close to hers. George jabbed his finger into the paper. "Look, two heads, and they're hugging!"

Rhia smiled, relishing in George's obvious glee. He laid a hand over her stomach and pressed a hug to his tiny twins inside their mum, and then he kissed her again.

"Rhia.  I'm sorry," Ian said, "but since you're here, we should change your medical files."

"Change them? Why?"

"Well…um…well, Rhia, your…your parents are listed as your emergency contacts and next of kin. Is that still accurate?"

Rhia and George both looked at him. "You know it's not.  Not anymore. I guess –"

She faltered, looking at George, who was nodding his head fervently.

"I guess put George down for both of those – emergency contact and next of kin, and put his parents down to contact about the babies, but not until next week. We're telling them tonight."

"Can you spell their name?"

"Yes, it's Weasley. W-E-A-S-L-E-Y. His parents can be reached at The Burrow, is that right?" George nodded and Rhia continued, "George and I can be reached in Diagon Alley – number 93."

"I'll change your address as well. You can get dressed while I update this."

When Rhia disappeared into the bathroom, George took Ian aside.  "She's all right? And the babies?"

"Everything's great. Try to keep stress to a minimum, make sure she sleeps enough, eats enough. She's eating for three."

"Listen, you're her friend?"

"Yeah, we grew up together. We were best friends."

"What does celwyddwr and maeden mean? Her mother said that to her.  It got quite nasty at the memorial."

"I don't speak Welsh, but I do know the first word – it's liar.  I don't know the second one."

George's face clouded over, and he looked at Ian with disgust for Rhia's mum. Rhia emerged and George brightened, taking her in his arms. He had taken her aback with another demonstrative hug and he kissed her keenly. "Marry me."

"Sorry?  George, you don't need to –"

"No, I don't. I want to. I'll be a good husband and a great father."

Rhia touched his face. "George, I'm not marrying you just because we're having a baby together." He looked disappointed, but smiled when she added, "but I'll let you take me to dinner."

"You know, we're having dinner with my parents tonight."

"Then take me out tomorrow night."

"It's a date," he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Oi Rhia," Ian called over, "can I speak to you…privately?"

"Of course."

"I'm sorry, but we can't list George as next of kin – he's not a blood relative and you're not married. I've put him down as emergency contact and as your primary decision maker. Is there another family member I can list as next of kin?"

She shook her head sadly. "Leave my Dad then."

"I can't, Rhia, he's dead."

"Yes, you can. Put my Dad's name with my Uncle Rhodri's address. Do I have any restrictions?"

"No caffeine, you can apparate, but limit it, cover your face when you floo. You're pregnant, not incapacitated."

"Excellent.  I'm starved," she noticed aloud. "George, is it almost tea?"

He glanced at his watch laughing. "Yeah, in two hours." "Can we go early; have a snack perhaps?"

"We can go early, but we'll tell them first. Agreed?"

She nodded, threading her arm through his, but dropped it to hug Ian.  "Cheers, Ian."

"Come back in four weeks, yeah?"

She nodded and she and George left arm in arm.

* *

George stepped through the gate to the Burrow, but stumbled when Rhia stopped. She was clutching his hand and when he turned to face her, George saw how pale she was and thought she would start to cry.  He put his arms around her back and felt her arms go around his waist as they pulled each other closer. He kissed the top of her head and whispered into her sweet smelling hair, "Trust me. It's going to be fine."

He drew his head back to look at her and he tilted her head up, feeling sad when he looked at her tears and the worry she had behind her eyes. "You'll see. It will be excellent. Can I tell you something else?" She nodded. "This is your home now. This is your family. Whether or not you ever marry me, those babies make you a Weasley, and Weasley's take care of family." She looked beyond him at his childhood home.  She hugged him tightly and her tears wouldn't stop, but she knew he was right. She was home, she could feel it; and George made her safe and made everything well again. "Better?"

She nodded. "Much." He turned towards the Burrow again, but she stopped him. "You make me better, George. I feel safe when I'm with you."

"We should go," George said. "I'm starving."

Rhia laughed at him, and they were laughing as they entered the bright Weasley kitchen. It was empty. The dishes were being done, and the wireless was on in the sitting room. "Where is everyone? Mum," George called. "Where are you?"

"Georgie," she exclaimed, scurrying down the stairs. "What are you doing here so early?" She hugged him closely.

"We were starving, so we came home early."

"Oh George," she laughed, patting his shoulder. "Arthur," she called upstairs. "George is here early, come down.  Rhia, how do you feel? Last time you were quite peaky.  Better now?" Rhia nodded, but Molly hardly noticed.  "You look much better. Your colour's very good."  She put her hand to Rhia's cheek. "George, will you peel the potatoes? You can help start the stew."

"Mum," George interrupted. "Mum, hang on, we wanted to speak to you– you and Dad."

"Arthur," Molly called up the stairs again. "Come down."

When Arthur reached the bottom step, he was wiping his eyes and putting his glasses back on. "Are you all right, Dad?"

"Fine.  We were just looking at your baby pictures."

George bit his lip and looked away. "Dad –"

"George, start peeling potatoes," his mum interrupted, directing him to the bowl of potatoes.

"Mum," he said firmly. "I'll peel in a minute. We need to talk to you and Dad. It's important." Molly turned to face her son, drying her hands on her apron. Arthur sat down and took Molly's hand, directing her into the chair at the head of the table, and George and Rhia took up seats across from them.

"Is everything all right, George?" his father asked gravely.

"Yes.  You know that Rhia is having some bother with her family. Well, she can't go to them." Molly reached out and covered Rhia's hand with her own, startling Rhia, who looked up and into George's mother's eyes. She and her son both had brown eyes, and then Rhia heard George's voice speaking again. "Mum, Dad, Rhia's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Molly asked. Arthur remained silent continuing to watch his son while Molly's eyes remained on Rhia's. "That's wonderful, Rhia. Congratulations."

"Cheers," Rhia answered quietly.

Molly continued, "Anything that you need, dear, anything that we can help you with, you just ask." Rhia smiled at her, feeling warmed by Molly's hand on hers.

George continued to look directly at his father. "Mum, Dad… Rhia's pregnant…and I'm the father."

Rhia held her breath. She could feel Molly's fingers faintly tighten on her hand, and Rhia's lip was quivering. George quickly took her other hand in his.

"George," Molly spoke quietly. "Oh George."

His father spoke now for the first time. "You're going to be a dad," he said quietly.

"Yeah.  It's brilliant."

"When?" his father asked gently, smiling at his son and the woman next to him.

"Your birthday, Dad. The sixth of February or around there – the baby chooses the day."

"That's wonderful Georgie. Have you seen a Healer yet?" his mum asked, looking back to Rhia.

"Yes," Rhia responded quickly. "This afternoon. I had been seeing a Muggle doctor in London, but we went to St. Mungo's today after the memorial service."

"George," Arthur said, thoughtfully. "Are you sure about the dates?"

George looked his father squarely in the eyes, knowing he would need to admit to something he wasn't entirely proud of, but his father was no idiot. He could do the math. "I'm a bit embarrassed, but there's no reason to dance around it – we all know how Rhia became pregnant." He felt all eyes on him, but at least he only had to explain it once. "We met at Hogwarts, during the battle, and met again after the battle, right after Fred…after Fred was gone. I couldn't stay in the Great Hall afterwards; I felt like I was suffocating in there, and I was hurt as well, and Rhia healed me. I had a huge gash on my neck and chest. Right after that, we…well, we all know what we did.  We met again at the café a couple of months later and her family had thrown her out of the house…because of the baby. She's only just told me this morning."

Molly squeezed Rhia's hand and tsked. "You've had to deal with this all alone? You poor thing." She then looked at her son. "When are you getting married?"

George looked at Rhia and smirked as they exchanged a glance. She couldn't help but return his smile. This was going exactly how he had predicted it would.

"Mum, we're not getting married; at least not yet."

"George, what do you mean? A baby needs a stable home and two parents –"

"Yes, and we'll still be two parents. We're not talking about marriage yet. Honestly, mum…you heard how we met…we barely know each other."

"George, you're having a baby together! Where will the baby live if you're not married?"

"Oh," George said enthusiastically. "We've solved that problem."  All eyes were on him yet again. When he was sure that he had his mum's full attention, he continued, "we're having twins, so we'll each get one and then at the end of the year, we'll trade." Molly's mouth opened in wonder with her son's cavalier tone, and Rhia shook her head, closing her eyes.

"You're not serious?" his mum asked.

"Twins?" Arthur asked.

George nodded his head excitedly. "Twins! It's brilliant, isn't it?" He was grinning broadly, like a cat.

Molly released Rhia's hand suddenly. Rhia held her breath again, waiting. She knew they'd been too lucky; George had been too flippant. She clung to his hand tightly. She knew that the shouting was about to begin, but Rhia was mistaken. Molly jumped up and grabbed Rhia by the shoulders, and hugged her strongly until she could hardly breathe.

"Why do you put up with that man? Congratulations Rhia.  Married or not, welcome to the family!" She kissed her cheek, and hugged her son next. Then it was Arthur's turn, and while George peeled potatoes, Rhia sliced the carrots. George looked at Rhia every few minutes, noticing her laugh, the lines in the corners of her eyes when she smiled, her dark eyes shining in the kitchen light. Arthur went up to get the picture album, and while the stew stewed, and they waited for the others to arrive, they looked at baby pictures of George and Fred, the whole time wondering what these new Weasley twins would look like; what they would be like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter End Notes:
> 
> Author's Note: The due date is an actual coincidence. If you take the date that they conceived (2nd of May) and count out forty weeks which is a full term pregnancy, you end up with a due date of 6th February. When I checked the Weasley birthdates for Ginny's, I discovered that Arthur's was on the due date, which I thought would be an interesting tie-in. One more note, since the baby does decide when it will be born, and this fictional baby will be no different, readers should note that it is perfectly normal for twins to be born 3-4 weeks early, and that is considered in the acceptable range for a full-term birth and not premature. Twins also tend to be smaller than their single birth counterparts, and part of that is due to the earlier delivery date. Lastly, before you ask, no, I do not have any twins of my own – two cousins in the States, two cousins in Canada and two nieces.
> 
> Glossary Guide:
> 
> Mam, sut wyt ti? –Mum, how are you?
> 
> Eitha da. A chithau? – Quite well. And you?
> 
> Da iawn – Very good.
> 
> Dy cariad? – Your boyfriend?
> 
> Y baban? – The baby?
> 
> Mae'r y baban yb dda; yn dda iawn. – The baby is good; is very good (well).
> 
> Celwyddwraig- Liar
> 
> Marared– this is her mother's first name
> 
> Digon- Enough
> 
> Maeden- Slut Wyt ti da? - Are you well?
> 
> y baban a dy cyfaill – the baby and your friend
> 
> Dim Rhiannon – Anything Rhiannon


	9. Hogwarts Express

George hesitated as he stood on the toilet side of the bathroom door, unsure of whether or not to enter the flat. He had finished showering long ago, but remained inside the small space, toweling off and waiting. Every now and then, he put his ear against the door, listening.

_Bang!  Slam!_

_No, not yet_ , he thought, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, putting his face in his hands for a moment, running his fingers through his damp hair.

He rubbed his face, making sure his beard was gone. For the past several weeks, he had let it grow in, not minding the stubble.  At first, it had been laziness that kept him from shaving, but surprisingly, Rhia liked his beard. She liked caressing his scruffy face, liked kissing him, feeling the warm scratching against her back in the mornings when they had a lie-in, not so much sleeping later as just quietly being together in those early hours. He would often just lie with his head on her shoulder, hand over her stomach, hoping to feel the babies move. He'd been unlucky thus far, but a few days ago, he made a muddle of gigantic proportions.

They were lying together on the sofa, and Rhia thought she felt something, so she grabbed his hand and laid it over her stomach. They stayed like that for a few minutes, but the babies were uncooperative, and then he said it. He commented on the roundness of her stomach and how excited he was to be able to see the babies in there finally. He might have actually used the phrase "getting bigger." Big mistake. Pushing his hand aside, she leapt off the sofa, and locked herself in the bathroom.  He was out of his element with an emotional, pregnant woman. Growing up with mostly brothers, he couldn't relate. He couldn't fall back on his jokes, and he was at a loss as to how to comfort her. He certainly couldn't remember his mum being pregnant, and he couldn't understand why Rhia was upset that the babies were growing so well.

When she had finally come out, he didn't mention it again, but over the past couple of days, she had been very sensitive about how her clothes weren't comfortable and didn't fit right anymore, suddenly bursting into tears for no apparent reason. She was hypersensitive about how little money she had and how much she took from George and his family. He hadn't yet offered to help with clothes shopping, but he knew she wouldn't like accepting any money from him. She really didn't have much, only what George paid her, and she insisted on contributing to the household by buying groceries and other domestic supplies. Well, she'd have no choice, he decided. She couldn't walk around naked.  Well, she could, he thought with a smirk. He put his ear to the door, and upon hearing nothing, peered out to see where Rhia was.

He found her lying in the bed with her back to him, still wearing his dressing gown. She was quiet, but her back was shaking, and George was almost certain she was crying again. He pulled on his underpants and a pair of jeans and sat on the bed, placing one hand on her back. "Rhia."

"Nothing…fits…I…have…nothing," she gasped out between sobs.

He lay down next to her, his chest against her back, his chin on her shoulder, and put his arms around her. She cringed when he placed his hand over her round stomach. When she went to push his hand away, he said, "Don't."

"I'm just going to get bigger and bigger. It's awful. I'm not going to the train station and I'm definitely _not_ going to Hogwarts." She began to cry again.

"Take off my dressing gown," he instructed.

"Sorry?"

"Take it off. If we're not going, you'll need to make it worth my while." He kissed her neck and tried to nibble her ear, but she pushed his head back with hers.

He slipped a hand inside the cloth, trying to reach her skin, but she pushed him away. "George, stop it." She slid away from him, but he was only encouraged, and shimmied closer, attempting to grope her again. "George! Please stop!" She twisted her body and pushed him away with both hands. Instead of falling off, he rolled out of bed, landing on his feet, laughing, which only offended her more. "You just don't understand."

"You're right. I don't see what there is to understand. You're pregnant. There are two babies in there. Of course, you're going to get bigger." She scowled at him, hating the truth, hating that he was right, and she was being ridiculous, especially when he continued, "And then in a few months, you'll have them, and you'll get smaller again. Well, except, your breasts because they'll be full of milk, but that won't be so bad, will it?" He slid into the bed again, touching her face, and looking into her eyes. "You'll let Daddy share with his babies, right?" He smiled suggestively, budging closer, using his nose to rub a light touch over one breast.  "You're beautiful, Rhiannon. You'll still be beautiful when you're bigger than this bed, and you'll be beautiful when you're a mum. I think you're right," he said, pressing his face deeper into her soft breasts, trying to open the dressing gown with his nose. "We should stay here all day. A nice quiet day just the two of us, and I agree, no clothes. I've already closed up shop for the day as it is."

"You have to go to the train and see Ginny off. She's expecting you."

"I'm not going without you."

"And besides, _cariad_ , didn't Professor McGonagall ask you to help with the opening feast tonight and tomorrow's memorial?"

"Yes, she did, and she's the Headmistress now."

"Headmistress, then. Aren't you staying overnight at the castle?"

"She's expecting me to, but I'm not going without you."

"You just don't understand George," she said sadly.

"No, I don't. You should be happy. You're having my babies. They should be infusing you with my humor and fun-loving-ness. Are you disappointed?"

"No, of course not. I –"

"What?" he asked expectantly.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "It's…it's just all this mess –this pregnancy was so unexpected, my mam's reaction.  I have no money, and it's not just the money." She took a deep breath. "I have nothing, George, only what you give me.  I really care for you, but I'm…I'm afraid…you only want me here because of the babies. I'm afraid that I'm forcing you to be a dad, and you'd rather be free. I don't want you forced into a life you'll hate."

"Hermione warned me about the emotions and other nonsense, but where is this coming from?"

"It's not nonsense."

"Rhia, I liked you before I knew about the twins, remember. We were dating before you told me." He kissed her nose and her cheek, slowly moving his lips down her neck while his hands finally slipped inside to caress her bare skin beneath the fabric. "Should I prove to you how much I care for you?"

"You don't need to do that," she said, tilting her neck back, making it easier for him to kiss her there. He obliged and he began to work his way down her cleavage.

"It would be a sacrifice, I know, but I could muddle through, if you need reassurance," he said between kisses. He stopped mid-kiss, looking up. "Finally! A smile. I have an idea."

"Does it involve me being naked like most of your ideas?"

"How'd you guess?" She smirked at him, and he winked.  "Actually, I thought I'd enlarge your jeans –"

"You had better be suggesting that you'll be joining me in them."

George laughed, kissing her nose. "As I was saying, you'll wear the magically enlarged jeans and one of my shirts, and we'll go see Ginny and Hermione off at the train, and then we'll go for a day of clothes shopping for the lovely mother-to-be of my enormous children, and then head up to Hogwarts for everything the Headmistress expects. How does that sound?"

Tears began to well in her eyes again. "George, I have no money.  I can't afford –"

"Rhia."  He interrupted a bit harsher than usual. "I'm going to make this simple for you, Rhiannon. I'm the father of those babies, and I'm going to take care of their mother. I will always be there to help you with them and that includes before they're born. What will you do in two months when even _my_ clothes won't fit? Walk around naked? Or wear my dressing gown to Christmas tea? I've seen pictures – ask my mum how big she got with Fred and me. _Let…me…help…you_ ," he said, emphasizing each word. She stared at him, but then finally nodded her head as George wiped away her tears, kissing her.  "Mmm, you taste delicious. What time is it?"

"Seven-fifteen."

"Hmm.  I don't suppose we have time for a quick –"

"Breakfast?"

"Not exactly what I was thinking, but when you're eating for three, I would imagine food must dominate your every thought." He kissed her quickly on the lips and rose from the bed. "I hate to disappoint you. I know you secretly want me, but you'll have to wait until tonight to ravish me."

She laughed and went to his chest of drawers to retrieve a shirt to wear. He continued speaking while he looked up the enlarging spell in his notebook. He had a special one for clothing.  "You know, I wonder if old McGonagall will let us sleep in the boys' dormitory – for old time's sakes." He turned when a pair of rolled up socks hit him in the back of his head. He laughed, but widened his smile as he eyed her choice of shirts.  She was wearing the magenta grand opening t-shirt that he and Fred had given away as a promotion that first summer. He questioned her with a look. Although her hair was darker than his, magenta wasn't exactly her colour either.

"Free advertising on the platform – get your name out there for the students. You may get some owl orders or some buzz for that Hogsmeade weekend you're planning. Twins use a lot of nappies, you know."

He laughed and tossed her the now enlarged jeans. He thought he might be in love. Beautiful and sexy and not above a little self-promotion during their tender family moment of seeing his little sister off on the Hogwarts Express. He smiled as she ran a brush through her hair and her tummy poked out, round and firm and asking to be touched. He couldn't resist. He strode over and put his arms around her, resting both palms on her midsection that he thought was just amazing. He pressed with a light touch, feeling there. He put his chin on her shoulder.  "I love this," he said, kissing her neck. "I love your baby belly. I can't wait to feel them move inside you."  He kissed her cheek, looking at her face, and catching her eyes in his gaze. "Rhiannon, will you –"

"We should go," she interrupted hastily, stepping away from him.

He reached for her hand, not letting her move far. " _Rhiannon_ –"

" _Cariad_.  We need to go. We don't want to miss the train." She looked into his eyes, begging silently to change the topic. He nodded, handing over her rucksack, but then put his hand behind her neck and drew her into an intense kiss. His eyes surveyed her face seriously, and he thought he might like to say something else, something more, but in his hesitation she smiled and stepped towards the staircase, looking back, hurrying him along with her eyes.

This trimester was supposed to be the best, and Rhia had been thoroughly enjoying it. High energy, low nausea, high sex drive (George was exceptionally pleased about this, although with her expanding belly making space for two growing babies, they were beginning to get creative with their positioning), less fatigue, low bladder issues.  The only drawback she found was that still, nearly every time Rhia apparated, she was sick. This was why they opted to take the tube to King's Cross Station to see Ginny and Hermione off.  Ron and Harry had decided not to return to school, and would be taking a modified NEWT test in a fortnight, but they were coming to say goodbye as well. Rhia left at the end of last year, having completed all of her educational requirements. She toyed with the idea of taking the test with George's brother, but didn't see what the point would be. She would, in all likelihood, remain home with the twins for several months after they were born.  She would have plenty of time to decide about her future. As they rode the train, she looked at George. He was staring out the opposite window, and she took his hand in hers and smiled at him when he looked at her with a sweet smile.

She remembered the day a little more than two weeks ago when everyone had gathered at The Burrow to celebrate Ginny and Percy's birthdays.  At first, Rhia was troubled that George had invited Katie, but he insisted on including her. He had taken her into the stockroom the week before the party, and Rhia saw them hugging tightly.  She saw Katie look at her and she hugged George again. Rhia knew he must have told her about the babies. She was glad.  They intended to tell his family at the party, and once George decided to invite Katie, Rhia didn't want her to be blindsided by their announcement. Rhia had been pleased to see that she brought Oliver with her. They seemed close, but Rhia didn't know if they were actually dating. Lee and Angelina were there, and she assumed that Angelina knew, since she and Lee were dating now and George told Lee privately soon after they told his parents.  Hermione knew, and Ginny had guessed, so really the only people who didn't know were George's brothers. Despite that, Rhia recalled feeling odd, but everyone was really excited, especially Bill and Fleur.

They sat with Rhia almost the entire evening asking all kinds of pregnancy related questions: "How did you know you were pregnant?"  "When did you begin to show?" "Were they moving a lot?"  "Can I feel your stomach?" Ron was the only one not constantly reaching out and touching her. George laughed and told his brothers to get it in while they could. There wouldn't be any opportunities to feel up his girlfriend _after_ the little ones were born. That was to be his pleasure alone.  Rhia didn't blush until he looked at her, his eyes darkening as they fell to her skin, peeking out from her ever-expanding bust line.

Molly admonished George for the long hours he made Rhia stay on her feet in the shop, and his response was simply and smugly that his mother should try telling Rhia what to do, and see where it got her.  Molly smirked at him when she told Rhia that she would not be helping with any preparations, but insisted on her relaxing in the garden.  Rhia obliged readily much to George's chagrin. Rhia didn't tell him that it was easier to obey his mother than to argue with her, a lesson he really should have learned long ago.

The train lurched to a stop and brought Rhia out of her daydream through the past. She smiled at George, realizing that he had been staring at her. She cringed slightly when he rubbed his palm across her stomach, but she didn't stop him. The pregnancy made her sensitive to constantly being touched in addition to her growing size, but she was trying to balance her squeamishness at being touched all the time with his need to be close to the babies.  King's Cross was the next stop, and they surprisingly arrived at Platform 9 ¾ well ahead of his family. Funnily enough, Rhia was right about the free advertising. Some of the students were scribbling down the address from her t-shirt as well as the promotion code for the ten percent student discount on the back. She and George were having so much fun as he entertained the new students that they hadn't noticed a boy approach closer, grabbing Rhia's arm.

"Aunt Rhiannon. What are you doing here?"

"Llelo?  I…You must be excited to be starting at Hogwarts."

"Are you returning to school?"

"No.  I've left already. We're seeing George's sister off.  She's a seventh year, although she's not here yet. I'm sorry. Llelo, this is George Weasley, my friend. George, this is my oldest nephew, Llywelyn. We've called him Llelo since he was a baby. He's Gruffydd's oldest. You remember my brother, don't you?" she asked and was surprised when he unexpectedly appeared behind his son.

"Rhiannon," he said stiffly, adding, "and your manager."

George put out a hand to meet Gruffydd's. "You don't know your sister very well; she manages fine on her own." He waved to his own sister as she passed by, patting his shoulder, while the rest of the Weasley group followed. Llelo's mouth opened in wonder as Harry walked by, a laugh on his face.

"Is that…was that?" he stammered.

George winked at Rhia, and with a nudge of his elbow, he encouraged her to ask, "Would you like to meet Harry Potter, Llelo?"

Her brother gave a disbelieving look and almost spoke, but Llelo's mouth opened and closed of its own accord, looking very much like a fish, with no sound coming out.

"You don't know Harry Potter." Gruffydd finally said what was on his mind; George was already calling to Harry, and as he quickly came over, he brushed his untidy hair out of his eyes, revealing his scar more prominently. It was obvious to Rhia that Harry and George had planned this little surprise encounter amongst themselves, knowing that Rhia's family would be at the train as well.

"Harry, this is my nephew, Llelo, and my brother Gruffydd Jones. Llelo, this is my friend, Harry Potter."

Harry took Llelo's hand, shaking it gently, smiling as he spoke, "I'm pleased to meet you, Llelo. Your aunt's become a great friend."

Llelo looked at Harry in a dazed awestruck way, almost too excited to speak, but managed to stammer, "Hello, Mr. Potter." Harry shook Gruffydd's hand as well before returning to Ginny's side. "Wow, Aunt Rhee, I can't believe you know Harry Potter."

"And now you do as well, Llelo," George said with a slight smugness to his voice, looking at Rhia's brother. He turned to Rhia, "We should head over – the train will be leaving soon."

The goodbyes were hardest on Harry and Ron, and George lost no time in taking the mickey out of the two of them. "Oh, please, you'll see them tonight at the welcoming feast for Merlin's sakes, and then again tomorrow at the service."

"Easy for you to say," Ron whinged, showing his older brother two fingers. "Your girlfriend is staying on the platform."  George put a possessive arm around Rhia and pulled her closer in response. He felt sad that one brother was missing, but he was actually looking forward to visiting Fred's grave. He wanted to tell him about his nieces or nephews that would be arriving in the new year. As the train began to move, pulling away from the station, George glimpsed Rhia's family heading towards them once again. He drew Rhia closer, and when he thought her family might have seen her, he leaned down and kissed her, partly because he hadn't kissed her for some time, but he also didn't want Rhia to see her mum. He could sense that she was surprised, but she surprised him when he felt her tongue on the roof of his mouth.  He forgot where they were, on a public platform in front of at least a dozen sets of eyes, when he took a step towards her and pressed his chest against hers. He could feel the curve of her breasts and as one hand dipped below her waist, brushing her arse, one of his legs slipped between hers. He hadn't realized how intimate their display was until he heard Bill's wolf-whistle and Charlie hooting at them. George reluctantly pulled his head back, staring into her eyes, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

Charlie took Rhia's hand from George's waist. "I think I'll escort the lady from the platform, lest she be attacked by your tongue again." George allowed his brother to slip an arm around his girlfriend's waist and followed them, sheepishly, blushing slightly, avoiding all eye contact with his wide-eyed and shocked parents. He watched Charlie and Rhia exit King's Cross arm in arm and stand in the street waiting for the rest of the family. Rhia's head tilted back in laughter at something Charlie said and he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to rush over and pull Charlie's hand from her, and he almost did when he saw Charlie put his hand on her swell housing the babies, his babies, but at that moment of unbearable envy, she looked at him and smiled.  Her smile sparkled in the midday sunlight, and George smiled back, ashamedly forgetting the resentment he felt for his brother, realizing for the first time how much he felt for her.

Rhia was his. It was that simple. That beautiful smile was for him; only him. She went to sleep every night in his bed and woke up every morning in his arms. His pillow smelled of her shampoo, and each night they relaxed with his head on her diminishing lap while he waited for the babies to kick him. She waited up for him when he went to the pub with Lee and Oliver, and she made him a roast dinner nearly every Sunday that they weren't at the Burrow.

He strode over to them and took her in his arms again as Charlie began to step away. He kissed her nose and gazed into her dark eyes.  "Will you marry me?" The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and he knew her answer immediately when her face fell.

"I'm not marrying you because we're having a baby together, George."

"We're having two, actually."

"George–"

"Think about it." He ended the embrace and took her hand, waving to his family as everyone began to disapparate on their own. He noticed Charlie eyeing him sympathetically, but he ignored him, and stepped away with Rhia's hand still in his as they headed for the nearest tube station to begin the arduous task of maternity clothes shopping.

* *

George sat on the sofa, eyes closed. He could feel Rhia's presence standing in front of him. He was afraid to open his eyes.  Rhia had been trying on clothes and packing for the last two hours, and that was after _three_ hours of originally trying on the same clothes and then actually buying them. He took a deep breath and reluctantly opened his eyes. He stared at her for a moment. She was wearing the enlarged jeans she'd had on since this morning, and a scarlet shirt that was long enough to cover her stomach. It had a low cut neck that laced up and she wore a gold colored silk scarf around her neck. He hadn't realized that he hadn't spoken yet and she began to smooth the shirt along her stomach and looked down apprehensively. Finally, he smiled when she met his gaze.

"You look fantastic. Really. You look great." He stood up, putting his arms around her waist. "You look great," he repeated. She smiled and he kissed her. "Are we ready now? All packed?"

"Yes, I'm ready. Where's your stuff?"

He released her waist and strode over to the small suitcase. He tossed in a pair of dress trousers and a button down shirt with his Gryffindor tie over it, his pants and socks and then he zipped up the case and set it next to the large Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes box already by the fireplace.

"You're finished? That's it?"

"That's it." He laughed at her jealous scowl, and pushed her into the green glowing fireplace. With two cries of Gryffindor Head of House, they were both at Hogwarts, dusting themselves off and getting their things together. Rhia put her small rucksack on her back to help George with the bags. Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for them when they tumbled separately out of the fireplace.  She hugged George for a long time, rubbing a comforting hand across his back. When she was finished with him, she approached Rhia and hugged her as well. She ran a loving hand over her bulging stomach.

"Mrs. Weasley told me that you two were expecting twins.  Congratulations. It's such wonderful news to bring us out of these sad times." It took the new Headmistress several moments before she released Rhia's stomach. She told them to leave their suitcases there. McGonagall had arranged for them to stay in the Head of House's quarters. They were told that the new Head of House wouldn't mind, but the Headmistress declined to reveal who the new Head would be.

As they exited into the corridor, McGonagall left them, and George stopped, unsure of which way to go. They still had about an hour before the students would be arriving and the Sorting would begin. George had some setting up to do, but there was something more important he needed to do first. He wanted to see exactly where Fred had died. Rhia seemed to read his mind, or at the very least, she knew he was thinking of his twin brother, and she returned to his side, taking his hand gently in hers.  She brought it up to her mouth, and kissed him tenderly and gave it a soothing squeeze. She looked up into his eyes, which were misting slightly. She touched his cheek, but they both remained silent until George ran a hand across his babies, and when he smiled at their mother, she stood up on her toes, and kissed him sweetly on his lips. He nodded, and they began the long trek through the cool passageway.

It was eerily still with no students in the castle. They hadn't passed any of the teachers yet either. Rhia felt warm and a bit lightheaded, but that was because she was remembering that May day.  On the second of May, it had been unusually hot and in the heat of battle, it was unbearable. Rhia stopped to settle her nerves.  She needed to be strong for George. She knew he hadn't been inside these castle walls since that day. That was the day his brother died, and she also knew it was hard for him to reconcile the wonderment of their twins who had been conceived on that same fateful day.

They soon arrived at the place where Fred died. She didn't notice anything unusual, but she could almost feel the dead reaching out.  She dropped George's hand and she smiled reassuringly at him.  He tried to smile back, but he couldn't manage even a feeble one.  The wall before them was still in shambles. It hadn't been repaired yet, and Rhia agreed that the new students should see the sacrifices that were made here. George took one step forward, leaving Rhia standing behind him. His head hurt and his eyes were so full of tears, he could hardly see the wall. He reached his hand forward and touched it, rubbing each stone, tracing each indentation with his fingertips. The stones were hard and rough against his skin and they felt cold, like beneath the ground where Fred now rested. He shuddered and was overcome with spasms of sobbing as he leaned his head against the coolness of the stones.  Rhia put her hand on his shoulder and George took hold of her, guiding her into his arms. He rested his head on hers, and held her for a long moment. Suddenly he spoke, harshly, but softly, "I wasn't here. I wasn't with him when he died. I should have been here. We'd never been apart, and he died without me."

"George," she said, "If you were here, you might have died as well."

"Sometimes, I wish I had died. I wish it were me in the ground. Did I ever tell you that he died laughing?" "Laughing?"

"Yes.  Percy said he was laughing when he died. Laughing!  Typical Fred." He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his body quickly calming down. "I miss him so much." There was really nothing Rhia could do except hold him. He rarely talked about Fred's death. She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach.

"We're glad you didn't die here," she said quietly, and when he looked down at her, she saw that his eyes had begun to dry. He tilted his head to the side and with a small grin, he leaned down, and pulled her even closer, kissing her.

"I–"he began, staring into her eyes as their kiss ended. "You know, I…love…touching these two," he said as he put a little more pressure on the twins. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't die as well. But I miss him." George turned as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Bill, what are you doing here?"

"You'll find out at the feast," he smiled. "Is your display set up?"

"No.  I'm on my way there right now." George touched the wall one last time, and he and Rhia made their way to the Great Hall where George got to work setting up the fireworks as well as the other surprises. He had brought sweets that would explode from the Whiz Bangs. There were trick wands and tickling powder and toy snitches that flew, but always returned to their owners.

Once the first years were Sorted and had taken their seats, Headmistress McGonagall paid tribute to Professors Burbage, Dumbledore, and Snape. She welcomed back the returning students and professors. Obviously with the death of Headmaster Snape, she would be the new Interim Headmistress. Professor Slughorn had agreed to remain for another year as the Potions teacher and since the last Defence against the Dark Arts teacher was in Azkaban awaiting trial, the new professor would be filling in for one year to get Hogwarts back on its feet. She gestured towards the new young professor as many of the sixth and seventh year girls swooned, noticing his long red ponytail and dark dragon skin boots. "Is that an earring?" Rhia heard one of the Slytherin girls ask.  Ginny and George sniggered. The Slytherin girl gave Ginny a nasty look. "What, is he too old for you to get a leg over, Weasley?"

Ginny smirked. "No. He's too much of my brother," she said as the Headmistress introduced Professor Bill Weasley, the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. He would also be Gryffindor's Head of House for this upcoming term. While they had dinner with Ginny and Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindors, George seemed happy. Dean and Seamus had returned as well as Neville, who was enjoying his new-found celebrity status. He was joking with George, and Rhia was pleased to see George like this. He was actually laughing. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but he was telling jokes between mouthfuls of food. Even though Rhia thought that everyone expected Fred to come bounding in and to shove George aside to sit down on the bench, they had fun watching George juggling dinner rolls, which he dropped clumsily when he noticed Rhia staring at him with a longing on her face he'd hoped he could gratify later in the evening. He smiled at her and shrugged as he picked up one of the dropped dinner rolls, and took a bite out of it.

At the Headmistress' signal, George began the fireworks display.  The Headmistress wanted the feast to be a festive time for the students. Tonight they would celebrate the fall of Voldemort and the return of all those who were safe – who survived.  Everyone knew that the memorial tomorrow would be a much sadder time for all, and then the term would start on Wednesday when everyone got their new class schedules. As Quidditch captain, Ginny had to work around everyone's schedule to get in tryouts and then practices. No one except Hermione was surprised by her new Head Girl status.

The fireworks were magnificent, and anyone who had been there when Fred and George set them off in their seventh year, thought that George outdid himself this year. He was pleased at how they turned out. He had arranged for all of the house colours to be represented, including Slytherin. There were dragons, lions, and snakes. There were gryphons and hippogriffs.  After about ten minutes of oohing and aahing, the fireworks began to explode, showering the students with trinkets, almost like one would find in a Christmas cracker. There were trick wands, and canary cream sweets. Tiny jars of tickling powder fell down to the house tables and tiny stuffed owls and pygmy puffs. Ginny grabbed a tiny white owl and tossed it over to Harry, who smiled, and tucked it away in his cloak pocket.

Soon, the night was over, and Rhia and George were lying together in what was now Bill's bed. George was definitely more relaxed sharing his brother's bed with Rhia than when he thought it was McGonagall's bed. Rhia cosied up to him, her back against his bare chest, and she whispered, "Those Whiz Bangs were super.  You did a fantastic job, Mr. Weasley."

"Cheers," he answered with a laugh in her ear, his warm breath caressing her neck. He kissed her behind her ear, and realized that she had already fallen asleep. He kissed her again, and snuggled closer as they slept.

The next morning's sun was bright in a cloudless blue sky. Its brightness was in direct contrast to the mood – people drifted along in mind-numbing sorrow. The summer sunlight tried to heal the wounds of four months ago by filling in the dark empty spaces, the gaping holes, the upturned trees, the ripped up grass. Most of the battle scars had been repaired, healed. As the sun shimmered and its rays bathed the lush green mountainside of the highlands, Rhia wandered away from George, lost in the memory of only a few short months ago. She thought about the brash act she and George had shared together, contrasting greatly with the mood of that day. She also thought of the miracle arising out of that act.  She lifted her skirt to her knees and sat in the grass against a willow tree and as she leaned against its strong trunk and looked out across the black lake, she laid one open hand across her belly, and smiled, finally enjoying the roundness there. It happened then. Her hand moved out and back in of its own volition, and she looked down, surprised. One of the babies had kicked her and then it happened again. Either one was being very active or they were both taking their turn at teasing their mum.

She saw groups of people making their way to the rows of chairs set up for the memorial service. The ceremony was to honour those who fought here at Hogwarts, but especially to honour those who never left, those who gave their lives here. There were many sacrifices that day, and Rhia was still here because two men made those sacrifices. She owed her life to Jamie Anderson and Owain Rees. She knew one man very well, had grown up with him; he was like a brother to her. In fact, he had been her brother-in-law. The second man she knew not at all, she'd only met him hours before he died and he died protecting her.

Liam Connors had just finished briefly talking about his sister, Aubrey.  She was a year younger than Rhia and they had grown quite close in Rhia's year at Hogwarts. She and Rhia had a Potions study group together. Aubrey and Rhia were the Potions experts; even Headmaster Snape had admitted that, but never in class. It was an understatement to say that he was very restrained in his praise of the students, so unlike Professor Slughorn, but to Rhia he never seemed as horrible as the other seventh years described. Rhia listened as her sister quietly talked about Owain and what a kind and loving father he was. He was an Auror who gave his life, so his son could have a better life. It was at times difficult to listen to her sister's short speech, and as her sister shot her scathing looks, still blaming her, she eventually dissolved into tears. She couldn't see through her steady stream of tears, but it didn't take long for George to gently put his arm around her shoulder and persuade her to lean back against his shoulder as Dennis Creevey stepped up to talk about his brother, who would have been a great photographer. Next was Andromeda Tonks, who spoke about her daughter, the Auror Dora Tonks. As she spoke, Rhia stared straight ahead, barely conscious of George's hand still holding hers and stroking it with his gentle fingers. She took several deep breaths, choking back sobs and in time was able to control herself.

As Mrs. Tonks sat down, she was handed a baby with blue hair, and then Harry Potter was at the podium, remembering his friend, Remus Lupin.  Rhia had known him briefly as a professor at her school in Wales, but then his secret came out, and he was forced to leave there as well.  Harry also told the true story of Severus Snape, which still astounded almost everyone. Now, it was time for the last speaker. George remained seated and after a moment, Rhia squeezed his hand, and he rose slowly. She looked up, and followed his approach to the podium with her eyes. He began to speak about that early pre-dawn morning and the expectation of battle– his whole family had been there on that day. He began to talk about battle plans and adrenaline, and how he hugged his brother– not goodbye, but good luck. He said his name: Fred Weasley. He began to speak about losing a twin when his words strangled him. His shoulders hunched, and although he wasn't crying, he still couldn't speak. His words were caught in his throat and his breathing was ragged, but he just stood there.  He was looking down at his hands, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the sides of the podium tightly. He took a deep breath wishing he could disappear into the ground with his brother.  Rhia could hear some fidgeting from the group and a baby had begun to cry, but George merely stood there, not speaking, not moving, not caring that people were waiting for him to continue.

Rhia stood slowly, and she could feel everyone's eyes move to her.  She felt her family's eyes, but quickly made her way up to the dais and approached George quietly. She took one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. He turned his head towards her, and she gave him a thin sad smile and spoke softly as she touched his face with soothing tender fingers, looking straight into his watery eyes. "Tell me about your brother. Tell meabout Fred."

And he did. He smiled and clasped her hand and he looked into Rhia's dark eyes, and he told her about his twin brother whom he desperately missed. He talked about their inventions, and said he would be remiss with so many people gathered, knowing that Fred would haunt him at inopportune moments with his lady friends if he didn't advertise their shop during his memorial. Fred was the smart one, the funny one, the outlandish one. They were exactly alike except that Fred was the better one, and George said with a wink, "I'm still the better looking one." This elicited a laugh from several people nearby, and then George continued, "And, before you row with me over it, Fred, please note that I'm the one with the beautiful woman hanging on my every word." There was another smattering of melancholy laughter as George completed his tribute to his twin brother. He squeezed Rhia's hand one more time as he finished speaking to the audience and silently mouthed, "thank you" as he leaned down and kissed her.

As their seats were retaken, they continued to lean against each other and hold the other's hand while the Minister of Magic concluded the memorial by ringing a gong fifty-five times – the number of wizards and witches who had died here at the end of last year's term, many of them students. As those on the dais trickled away, Rhia and George stepped over to Fred's grave, forever resting in the shadow of the Quidditch pitch. There was a Gryffindor scarf wrapped around the bottom of the holly bush that had been planted alongside the stone.

The granite was smooth against her touch. George pushed her gently towards the stone, so that her stomach was now leaning on it.  He spoke quietly, "Say hello to your Uncle Fred, lads."  Rhia laughed and grabbed George's hand to place on her stomach, so he could feel the rapid kicking just beginning inside. "I guess they're anxious to meet you as well, Fred. I miss you brother." At that moment, his hand bounced off Rhia's stomach. He laughed and then Rhia began to as well. They drew some odd stares at their inappropriate revelry, but they knew how appropriate it really was to laugh when you mourned a Weasley twin. They remained with Fred for quite some time until finally joined by more laughing redheads, getting ready for a special tea in his honour at The Burrow.


	10. Complications

Verity liked it when George left her and Rhia to tend the shop alone while he ran his errands. Today was his trip to Gringotts, and of course, his daily stop at the café. This gave them a chance to chat and get to know each other better. They were sharing a laugh when the door chime announced the arrival of a new customer.  Rhia stopped laughing, the smile quickly leaving her face as her oldest brother approached the display counter the two women were standing behind. He stared at her large stomach where Verity's hand rested.

"Rhiannon," he said brusquely. "We need to talk…about mam."

"What about Mam?"

" _Mae hi'n preifat_ ," he said, glancing at Verity. Verity exchanged a look with Rhia and removed her hand; despite not knowing Welsh, she instinctively knew that her presence was unwanted by the bad-tempered man.  She made to move away.

"You don't have to leave, Verity. My brother won't stay long."

"Rhiannon–"

"What do you want, Gruffydd?"

As Verity stepped aside to straighten shelves, he met his sister's intense gaze with hesitation. "Mam wants to see you.  She's been ill. She'll be at St. Mungo's on Friday, and she'd like you to be there with her. Can I tell her you'll meet her?"

"I'm not meeting her," she said with a twinge of sadness.

"Rhiannon, she's your mother."

"I know who she is. She should have thought of that when she threw me out."

"You don't care about her any longer?"

"That's not fair, Gruff. I do care, but I care about my own child more. I can't risk this baby to go back and forth with Mam.  The stress of it –"

"Of what? Admitting you were wrong?"

"I was wrong? I wasn't wrong."

"You made a mistake."

"This pregnancy, _my_ child is not a mistake. They're my –"

Rhia stopped speaking suddenly as an intense pain surged from inside her stomach. She put her hands there, biting her lower lip.  Her breathing was becoming ragged while Gruffydd continued to argue with her, telling her all the reasons she needed to see her mother who was ill, and why wasn't she listening to him? He sounded as though he were speaking to her through a deep fog or from underwater. Her ears closed and the only thing she could hear clearly was the powerful pounding of her own heart. Her head throbbed as her eyes darkened, misting a bit from the pain.

Gruffydd stopped speaking when Rhia grabbed the counter with one hand, the other one still on her belly as she crumpled to her knees, knocking over the daydream charm display. The boxes thudded to the floor, one, two, three at a time, and finally Rhia cried out from the unbearable pain. She could feel her trousers becoming wet, and she didn't know what that could be, but she knew it wasn't good.  She could hear Verity's scream as she approached and then her hand was on Rhia's shoulder.

"Rhiannon, are you all right?" She barely heard her brother's words as Verity helped her to lie down on the floor. She brushed Rhia's hair back away from her face, saying her name, asking if she were all right.

"George," she whispered in response.

"We can't wait for George. I'll leave a note for him.  We'll floo to St. Mungo's. Rhiannon!" she called to her, trying to focus Rhia's attention on her voice. Rhia scarcely nodded her head as she squeezed her eyes closed. Verity rubbed her hand across Rhia's forehead and stood to face Rhia's ashen-faced brother. "Get out," she said, firmly.

"I can help," he insisted.

"You've done enough." Verity walked past him and held open the front door, waiting for him to leave. He looked over the counter at his panting, crying sister and for a moment was speechless.

"I'm sorry, Rhiannon." He turned and didn't look at Verity as he moved through the doorway. Verity closed the door loudly, using her wand to set the locking charms. She turned the sign to closed, and scribbled a note to George, sticking it to the counter with a charm. She struggled to help Rhia stand up and they made their way slowly to the stock room. Verity waved her wand and the hidden fireplace appeared. She and Rhia stepped in, and Verity spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"St. Mungo's Accident and Emergency Ward." With a whoosh of green flames, they were gone.

* *

After Gringotts, George was excited. At the end of this week would be Hogwarts' first Hogsmeade weekend, and he was setting up a temporary shop at Zonko's old place. He and Fred looked into buying it once, but that hadn't worked out at the time. It seemed like so long ago. No one had offered to buy it since, and George wasn't sure that he wanted to make it a second permanent location, but he liked the idea of leasing it for the Hogsmeade weekends so the students could catch up on their pranking. As he walked through the Alley, he thought about getting a coffee, but he got an uneasy feeling when he saw a group of kids standing outside his shop, but not going in. When he arrived, he saw the closed sign, and no indication of Verity or Rhiannon.

He moved through the small group, but before they could get excited, he announced, "Sorry, shop's closed today, but we'll be open early tomorrow." He waved to them as he entered and re-locked his front door, setting the wards in place.

"Verity.  Rhia," he called. "Where are you?" He looked around and went behind the counter. He stopped when he saw the wet floor – clear mixed with red. Was that blood? A messy pile of daydream charm boxes were nearby, one soaking up the substance from the floor. He checked the till, but the money appeared to all be there. He had been afraid they were robbed.  He slammed his hand on the counter, and from the corner of his eye saw the parchment flutter. He grabbed it and had to read it through twice before the words registered in his mind.

"We've gone to St. Mungo's. Hurry. Verity." He dropped the note and ran to the stockroom. The fireplace was still visible and he stepped in, throwing the powder as he went and crying out, "St. Mungo's."

He arrived, soot-covered, feeling his heart in his throat and staggered out of the public fireplace he'd landed in. He looked around, not moving so he could catch his breath and collect his bearings.  He found the sign for the welcome witch and she directed him to the emergency ward. He was instructed to wait in their waiting area. Ms. Jones was being seen by a healer right now, he was told, and someone would be out to assist him shortly.

George sat there, heart beating wildly, puffs of air expelling from his nostrils, teeth clenched. He looked around at the others waiting. There was a witch crying on someone's shoulder, and a young child sleeping across his mother's lap. There was a wizard laughing and his teenage son crying. George felt lost and anxious, overwhelmed by the pessimistic turn his thoughts had taken.

His mind flashed back to their quiet morning, relaxing lazily in bed until he heard Verity moving around in the shop. He wondered if he should owl his mum. She'd help him through this. He looked around again. What was taking them so long? He leaned back in his seat, his head touching the cold stone wall behind him. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.  He heard doors open and close. He heard footsteps shuffling through the waiting area. He heard murmurings of people speaking and some laughter mixed with tears. Shuffling footsteps stopped very close to him.

"George."

George took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking at the man before him. "Ian. Do you know anything? How is she?  What happened?" He fired off his questions in rapid succession, not giving Ian a real chance to answer.

Ian's eyes darted to George's right. "What are you doing here?"  George turned his head to see Rhia's brother, Celyn, standing behind a nearby chair.

"How's Rhiannon?"

"How do you know she's here?" Ian asked.

Celyn looked from Ian to George and then back again. "Gruffydd.  He told me she was brought in."

"And how does he know?" George asked harshly.

Celyn swallowed, but only hesitated for a moment. "He was there."

George turned his back on Celyn and addressed Ian. "Can we go somewhere more private?" Ian nodded and began to lead him away.

"Wait, Ian. She's my sister. How is she?"

"I'm sorry, Celyn. "I'm not authorized to speak to you about her."

"But you're authorized to speak to him?"

"Yes.  She's changed the emergency authorizations in her paperwork.  I'm sorry."

George followed Ian through a series of doors until they came to another waiting area. When Verity saw George, she jumped up to hug him. Ian stepped aside for a moment to talk to another man and then they both approached George and Verity together.

"Is she all right?" George was chewing on his lip, trying his best to remain in control.

"She will be," the second man answered. "I'm Healer Denham.  She's really had only a scare. There were some false labour pains, which is quite normal," he added quickly, seeing George's panic-stricken face. "They're perfectly normal," he reassured, touching George's arm, adding, "but combined with the stress of the argument –"

"Argument?" George interrupted, looking at Verity.

Verity nodded. "Her brother came by. I didn't hear it all, but it was about their mother."

George turned back to the Healer, who continued. "She needs to remain as stress-free as possible. I understand that her work requires her to stand for long periods of time. She really shouldn't work a full day for the remainder of the pregnancy."

"That won't be a problem," George said firmly, adding, "but you'll need to tell her that. She won't listen to me."  Verity smiled.

"Everything else looks great. The babies are both a good size.  They're growing very well, and Ms. Jones hasn't gained too much weight; well within the normal range. She's right where she's supposed to be. Stress is the real problem that needs to be addressed."

George nodded his head. "Can I see her?"

"Yes, but she'll sleep for another two hours. We've given her a potion to keep her asleep and lower her blood pressure. When she wakes up, we'll examine her again, and then she can go home.  I will want to see her in two weeks."

"Okay.  Can I sit with her until she wakes up?"

"Yes, of course. You can go in whenever you like." When the Healer left, George stood next to the door, and looked through the glass window. He saw her asleep each day, but lying in the hospital bed, she appeared different; so small and frail. He felt Verity's hand on his elbow, and he turned to face her.

"Thanks for getting her here, Verity. I probably won't open the shop tomorrow."

"I'll see if Ron can help so we can open," Verity volunteered, and George nodded. He hugged her and then quietly entered the room.  It was completely still except for his footsteps and Rhia's soft breathing. When he reached the bed, he ran two fingers over her abdomen, and leaned his head close to her ear. He whispered things in her ear that he could never say aloud. She never let him. He kissed her ear and her cheek and her forehead. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it and then each of her fingers in turn. He rested his head on his hands, holding her hand and whispering his deep feelings as she lay there quietly sleeping.

He didn't know how long he sat like that. Neither of them moved, and George had finally stopped speaking. He was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder, and was startled to see Charlie.  "How are they?" his brother asked quietly.

George nodded his head. "She's just sleeping. The Healers say she'll be alright. The babies are fine; growing nicely.  They gave her a potion. She can come home when she wakes up."

"Mum's outside the door." George looked at Charlie, who continued, "She thinks Rhia should stay at the Burrow."

George swallowed and amazed Charlie by not arguing. "She's probably right, but it'll be up to Rhia. We'll go back to the flat from here, and I'll ask her if she wants to stay there."

"Do you want a break?"

"No.  I want to stay with her. I want to be here when she wakes up.  Who else is here?"

"Everyone."

"Everyone?"

"We're Weasleys, George. You should know, though, her brother's also out there, and he won't leave. The Healer asked him to go, but he refused. Said he's waiting to see you."

"Which one?"

"She has more than one?" When George nodded, Charlie added, "He's the Quidditch player. I was at Hogwarts with him, I think."

George nodded. "I'll come out and see him in a minute."  They both turned to Rhia as she began to stir. Charlie touched George's shoulder one more time and then slipped quietly out while George watched Rhia's face as her eyes began to flutter open and her breathing changed as wakefulness overtook her. He was smiling when she opened her eyes and she gave him a weak smile in reply. George could see realisation come over her as she remembered what happened. She tried to sit up, but George jumped to his feet, gently, but firmly pushing her shoulders back down to the bed.

"What happened? Are they all right?" She sounded panicked, and George was quick to reassure her as he sat beside her on the bed.

"The babies are fine. You're well. You need more rest, less work, no stress."

She laughed. "No stress? You're not serious?"

"Mum thinks you should live with her for a bit. Would you like some time in the country…with my mum?" He smirked at her.  "No stress there."

"I love your mam."

"We all love my mum, but we don't live with her anymore. Um, the Healer will come in to check you over, and then we can go home.  You can decide about the Burrow tomorrow."

"Are you leaving?"

"Only to tell the Healer you're awake and to speak with your brother."

"My brother? He's here?"

"Celyn's here," he responded, knowing from her voice that she thought it was Gruffydd. He kissed her head. "Do you want to see him?"

"No," she said quietly, shaking her head. He kissed her head again before heading back to the waiting area.

George closed the door, but stood at the window watching Rhia until his family gathered around him. He faced them, and he noticed Rhia's brother sitting alone, behind the crowd of redheads, watching and waiting for George. Sometimes, George thought that having a large family was a burden, but right now, it was a blessing; to have so much support when he truly needed them. He addressed his mum, explaining his plan to take Rhia home to the flat and then they would talk about going to the Burrow tomorrow. He agreed with his mum that it was a good idea. They talked, if you could call it talking, for a few moments more, his mother arguing over tonight's tea, but George insisted that he could manage, and he would tie Rhia to the sofa if need be. She finally relented, but it took Arthur, Bill _and_ Charlie to convince her, and once Ron agreed to work at the shop tomorrow, Molly was finally placated.

He looked beyond his family group again and saw Celyn Jones staring at him, his look a mixture of anger and concern and, perhaps, envy watching the Weasleys say goodbye to George and leave. George finally made his way over to Rhia's brother.

"What do you want?" He was trying not to sound too harsh, but his mind had gone over to the mode of head of the family, like a long-maned lion protecting his pride. When he looked at Celyn, he didn't see a brother, concerned for his sister; he saw the other brother, Gruffydd, a predator preying on his family, and the time for bending to Gruffydd Jones' will was at an end.

"I'd like to see my sister. Please," he added. George shook his head before he spoke and Celyn reacted immediately. "She's my sister. I have every right –"

"No!  No. You have no right to her. You lost your right when you abandoned her." Celyn glowered, but did nothing when George jabbed at his chest with a finger. George knew that most people were intimidated by Celyn's size. He was a broad burly Quidditch player, as tall as George, and he had no doubt that if Celyn really wanted to, he could lay George out easily.

"Your brother is the reason she's here. He throws her out like rubbish, and then he brings her back in just to throw her out again.  I'll tell her you were here. She'll send you an owl."  George turned, but paused, feeling the lion again. "Keep your brother away from my family." Celyn's expression changed, softened somewhat, the question coming to the forefront of his mind, and as he reached out his hand, grabbing George's elbow, he knew he would have to ask. George surprised him by spinning around to face him. Celyn was caught off guard with his speed, and he blurted the indelicate question out.

"Are you…are you the baby's father?"

George wrenched his arm from Celyn's grasp, remaining silent, and then stalked away, leaving Celyn alone and still wondering what the true answer was.

* *

The next morning was passing rather uneventfully. Rhia's bag was packed for her stay at the Burrow. She had reluctantly agreed to go there, but only after George agreed to stay with her the first night. She knew he was giving up important time for her, but she wanted him near her. He was trying to get things set up for Saturday's trip to Hogsmeade, and she was hoping that if she stayed off her feet and followed the Healers' admonishments, Mrs. Weasley might let her venture out to surprise George for lunch. She hadn't told George because he was becoming such a worrywart, and it all would depend on how she felt. She also thought that if she stayed away from her own family, her health would definitely improve. She had only eighteen weeks until the babies' due date. As it was, George "fired" her from the shop, but agreed to let her do his paperwork: a perfect solution for both of them. She could feel as though she was earning her paycheck, and he didn't have to do the paperwork that he loathed.

George and Rhia were sharing a laugh, lying on the sofa when they heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open. They waited a moment, and then they heard a knock on the wall, and Verity's voice called up. "George, I'm really sorry, but I need you in the shop.  It shouldn't take long."

"Ron can't handle it?" he called back.

"No," she said, quietly.

George looked at Rhia, who shrugged her shoulders. She sat up and pushed him with her feet to get him moving off the sofa. He stopped to kiss her head, and he stopped again when she grabbed his hand and pulled him down to her, so she could kiss him again.  He laughed and trotted down the stairs. He stopped laughing when he saw Verity's face. "What's wrong?"

"You're not going to like it."

He stepped through the curtain, not bothering with his work robes, and stopped short on the other side as the scene unfolded before his eyes. Ron was behind the counter arguing with a customer, or so George thought at first. He soon realised that it was Rhia's oldest brother. George thought better than to approach him directly, so he joined Ron behind the counter, thinking that the buffer between them would be the best idea. He glared at Gruffydd as he asked in his most polite tone, "May I assist you?"

"I'd like to see Rhiannon."

"No."  George admired his own restraint, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You don't have any right to keep me from my sister."

"Actually, as I explained to your brother yesterday, it is up to Rhia whom she chooses to see, and she has decided to put her pregnancy first."

"Are you suggesting that I can't see her until she has this baby?"

"I'm suggesting that you send her an owl, and wait for an answer.  Actually, Gruffydd, I'll do you one better." He reached below the glass, and pulling out a quill and parchment, handing it to Rhia's brother. "Write her a note now, and I'll give it to her when I see her."

"How is she?" he asked quietly as he scribbled on the parchment.  "I didn't mean for her to be hurt."

"You never do, do you?"

"Despite what she's done with her life, I still care about her."

"Why did you come here in the first place?"

Gruffydd raised his eyes to look at George's face. "My mother's ill. She wants to see Rhiannon before she goes to St. Mungo's on Friday." When George didn't respond, he continued, "She's having some tests done there. She's been confused lately. Well, you saw her at the Ministry Memorial in the summer. You didn't think that was her usual behaviour, did you?"

"No.  I thought her usual behaviour was to throw her pregnant daughter out onto the street."

Gruffydd couldn't hold George's gaze for long after that, and handed him the folded parchment before leaving the shop.

* *

Rhia found Molly's doting to be a bit unnerving, but she behaved, and finally Arthur talked his wife into letting Rhia floo to the Hog's Head Inn, and from there she would be able to visit George. Ron and Verity would both be there assisting in the shop, so George would be able to get away, and Bill had offered to meet her at the Hog's Head and escort her around town until she met up with George.  Fleur would travel with her, so all of their Ts were crossed, and Rhia was excitedly planning her time with George. She hadn't been able to see him in the last couple of days because of his work, but she was really looking forward to Saturday.

The next morning began sunless and windswept. Rhia felt like she was floating on air, she was so excited. Fleur was a bit late, but she'd had a bout of a stomach bug, and it seemed to Rhia that the bug was going to win. She leaned on Rhia to steady herself. When they were expelled from the Hog's Head fireplace, Bill was waiting for them. He greeted Rhia warmly as his lovely wife was sick all over the fireplace hearth. Bill whispered something in Rhia's ear, and her eyes widened. Bill put his fingers to his lips to shush her, and then he went to help his wife pick herself up off the floor. She smiled weakly at him as he waved his wand, cleaning the mess. Rhia waved and turned away after they had agreed on a time to meet back at the Inn, and the three of them went their separate ways.

It didn't take long for Rhia to find Zonko's old shop. It was bright with purple, gold and magenta streamers. She looked in the front window of this store. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Twin Shop (as George had named it) was jam-packed. The front window display had pygmy puffs on one side and daydream charms on the other. There were Whiz Bangs flying around inside (and outside) the shop, and they must have had samples of the joke sweets because every now and then a younger student (usually a third year) would burst into feathers and then moult. Everyone around that feathery person would jump back and there was a broom and dustpan floating around the shop sweeping up the falling feathers. Rhia smiled fondly, remembering the look on Gruffydd's face when she and Celyn gave him a canary cream. They had roared with laughter, but Gruffydd was not amused.

Finally, Rhia pushed open the door as a cackle and a wolf whistle announced her arrival. No one even turned around. She made her way to the counter, where George was putting money in an old-fashioned Muggle till. "Sorry, sir, but do you sell self-inking quills and how much are they?"

"They're three knuts a piece or two for five," He answered without looking up.

"I'll take two…hundred."

"Two hundred? Are you serious?" His eyes darted up and he smiled. "Of course, you're not serious." "No," she said slyly, "it's a joke shop."

"What are you doing here?" He tried to look stern, trying to figure out how she had sneaked out on his mum, but he smiled instead, happy to see her here.

"I thought you might have time for lunch."

He looked at Ron apprehensively, but before the question could even be asked, he and Verity waved George away.

"I think I might have time for lunch," he said to her, taking her arm and escorting her from the busy shop. "Three Broomsticks?"

Rhia nodded and took his hand as they walked the short distance to the pub, and found a table in a dark corner. After ordering, George began to speak.

"How did you escape from Mum?"

"I didn't escape. She gave me leave for good behaviour."

"You didn't apparate, did you?"

"No, Mr. Concerned-About-the-Babies, I did not apparate. I floo-ed.  Fleur came with, so she could meet up with a certain Hogwarts professor who shall remain nameless."

"I'll have you know that it's Mr. Concerned-About-the-Babies'- _Mum_ as well. And, you had better not let Bill hear that Fleur's in town with another man." They both laughed, but George stifled hers with a deep pining kiss, tasting her for the first time in many days. It seemed much longer to both of them.  "I've missed you. When do you think Mum will let you come home?"

"Perhaps next week, _cariad_."  They ate their lunch in relative quiet, stealing glances at one another and smiling surreptitiously. She put her hand on George's cheek and for a moment, he thought she might say something important, but she just grinned and leaned over to kiss his face.  "You should get back to the shop. Ron and Verity will think you've abandoned them for a few drinks."

"No.  They know I've abandoned them for a _merch clos_."

Her face glowed as she looked at him. "Where did you learn that?"

"A little bird told me." He was more pleased when she leaned over to kiss him, her lips remaining against his for longer than usual.

When they arrived back at the shop, there were fewer customers. The students had started heading back to Hogwarts, and Verity had begun packing up some of their merchandise to return to Diagon Alley.  Ron was helping a customer and George left Rhia to explain the decoy detonators to a fifth year who looked confused. They had apparently run out of Skiving Snackboxes and Verity had a long waiting list for those to send owl orders. Rhia beamed as George caught her eye. He sold the detonators, and came around from the counter and pulled her into his arms. "Tell Mum that I'll be by tomorrow, and I'll stay for tea."

"I don't know why, but I think she's expecting you to. She also wanted me to remind you about next month – that first Sunday.  Charlie's coming in from the preserve, and I think…. Didn't your Dad mention that he wanted to celebrate your Mum's birthday that weekend?"

"Did he? Oh, that first Sunday is the first of November, isn't it?" Rhia nodded. "Yes, I think you're right.  Mum's birthday is the 30th of October." They both turned towards the cackling as the front door opened. George had a smile for Bill and Fleur, but it immediately left his face as Rhia's brother followed them in, and approached Rhia. George stepped between them. "May I help you?"

"Cheers, but I came to see my sister. It's important, and I will try not to upset her." Celyn met George's glare with his own scowl. George turned to Rhia as she put a gentle hand on his arm.

"It's all right, _cariad_.  It there an office or a quiet room?" George grudgingly nodded his head towards the back of the shop, but pulled Rhia closer to kiss her.

"It's all right, really," she said, before following her brother into the other room, leaving the door open.

"What do you want, Celyn?"

Celyn grabbed two chairs, and offered one to his sister. They both sat. He took her hands in his own. She bit her lip.  It had been such a long time since she'd seen her brother.  She repeated her question, and he looked into her eyes. "I want…I want to visit you. I want this baby to have an uncle."

"Babies," she corrected.

"Sorry?"

"Babies," she said, taking one of his hands and placing it on her round tummy.  "Twins. I'm having two."

His eyes widened. "Sorry? Two, did you say? That's brilliant, Rhiannon." He rubbed his hand across her tummy, and his eyes began to moisten. "I miss you Rhiannon.  Mum wants to see you. I know you won't come, and I understand, but there's something wrong with her. She's gone for testing at St. Mungo's yesterday, and the best they've found is that she's Confunded."

"Confunded?"

"Yes.  It's as if she's been cursed with a Confundus charm, only it's natural. There doesn't seem to be anything they can do.  Bloody useless Healers. She's keeping a journal. She misses you. I know you need less stress, but maybe, after the babies are born, you could come see her. Some days, she doesn't remember that you're pregnant; she thinks you're away at school.  She asks when Dad's coming home from work. When's his next game? Other days, she thinks Death Eaters live in the attic.  She floos Gruffydd at least once a day, complaining about some noise in the attic. He'll apparate over, and there's nothing there. There's no noise, there's no Death Eaters.  Then she'll ask about Dad. It's been difficult on Catrin and Dai. I may actually move back to help them when the season ends. I just thought you should know. Can I owl you, Rhiannon?"

"Of course, Cel." He rose to go, and when she went to stand, he told her to stay sitting. "Cel, after all this _rwtsh_ with mam, Gruffydd still believes her lies about me?"

"I think he's embarrassed by the way he's treated you. He's embarrassed that you have this stranger taking care of your needs instead of your family. He doesn't realise the truth about this George Weasley"

"And what's the truth about George Weasley?"

"Gruffydd didn't see him," he shrugged. "I saw him at St. Mungo's when you were unconscious. He's more than your boss. I know he's the father." Rhia's eyes widened, disconcerted. "I won't tell Gruff. That's up to you." He stepped towards the main shop, but returned to his sister, putting his arms around her back and bringing her into a hug. "I love you Rhiannon. You can always come to me. _Trwy'r amser_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Mam– mum, mother  
> Mae hi'n preifat – It's private  
> Cariad – love, sweetheart  
> Merch clos – pretty girl  
> Rwtsh – rubbish, nonsense  
> Trwy'r amser – Always
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> I've explained Mrs. Jones' odd behaviour using a naturally occurring chemical imbalance that is similar to the Confundus charm. It is supposed to be similar to the Muggle condition of Alzheimer's Disease that many of us are all too familiar with. Many of the symptoms that Mrs. Jones went through are very similar to what my grandmother went through with Alzheimer's including calling family members and talking about the criminals living in the basement and general paranoid behaviour coupled with perfectly normal, coherent behaviour. It's sad for the whole family and often is the catalyst for many family rifts as is any debilitating illness.


	11. The Burrow 1 Nov 98

The morning began as it usually did. Rhia's bladder was always the first to wake up, and with each new pound she gained, sitting upright was becoming interesting. It took her a moment to disentangle herself from George's various limbs, and then she found herself rolling off the bed again. It sounded awkward to George, and more than once, he reached out to keep her from falling to the floor, but she always managed to roll and land on her feet, like a cat and without his help. He still couldn't prevent himself from cringing each time, so as a rule, it was better if George simply didn't watch while it was happening, much like the making of sausages. When she finished in the bathroom, she crawled back into the bed and into George's waiting arms.  There were times when he pretended to be asleep and surprised her with a cluster of kisses on the back of her neck and shoulders.  Today was one of those times. George laughed as she jumped at his first set of kisses. He rubbed a hand across her belly, lifting her shirt, and covering her face with it. "Hey," she cried out with a laugh as she removed the fabric from her eyes.

George raised himself to his knees, his head hovering over hers. He left light kisses across her forehead and then down her nose to the tip. He ran a finger along her cheek until it touched her lips, and then he kissed her, stopping only to breathe. He leaned his body against hers when she put her arms around his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair and traced his ear with one of them. He smiled at her and continued kissing her face and neck, causing her to giggle and return his kisses.

Since last month's scare, they had been growing ever closer. Rhia had spent three weeks at The Burrow, having only returned to Diagon Alley a week ago. During those three weeks, Molly thought George spent more time at The Burrow than when he was growing up there. It was certainly more than since he and Fred had moved to the flat over the shop. She would glance out of the kitchen window while she made tea and smile. Rhia had a chair she liked to sit in while she was in the garden, and when George arrived, he would cast an enlarging charm so he could sit beside her. Molly enjoyed watching George rest his head on Rhia's shoulder, holding her hand in his over her stomach, watching the sun set until Molly finally called them in for tea. Fred and George had always been together and always so energetic that it seemed to her, at the same time, to be both sad and thrilling as she saw George become a solitary man as he seemed to fall in love with Rhia. Molly shrewdly refrained from commenting, thereby avoiding her son's aggravation and Rhia's embarrassment.

Since Rhia had returned to the flat, the week that she had spent with George was beginning to make her go spare. She couldn't believe how overprotective he had become. She had more freedom under Molly's watchful eye. He had finally allowed her to walk down to Gringotts and make the deposit on Wednesday, and she used that opportunity to pick up the new copy of _Witch Weekly_ magazine. She sat for a time at the café for a cup of tea (decaffeinated, of course). As she sat in a quiet corner alone, she rolled her eyes at the imaginary George in front of her admonishing her choice of drink. It's decaffeinated, she said to herself. She turned the pages of the magazine until she found this week's piece of the romantic serial she was following and began to read.

She had started reading it when she got hold of Molly's copy of the magazine. There was a terrific recipe that showed step-by-step how to make pasties and, after reading how simple it seemed, she was determined to make them for George. The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became. He made them so well, but she wanted to try it out for him at any rate. When she arrived back at the shop, though, her good mood evaporated. There was an owl from her brother waiting for her. She turned the letter over in her hand several times before reading it and placing it in the bedside table drawer.

That was Wednesday, and today, as George rose from the bed to get into the shower, she reached over and pulled the parchment out to re-read it yet again. As she sat on the bed, unfolding the missive, she looked up, noticing George watching her. She gave him a wry smile and, fortunately, he refrained from comment, closing the loo door quietly behind him. She read the note for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

'Dear Rhiannon, Mam will be at St. Mungo's tomorrow. She would like to see you. Please meet us there. She doesn't understand why you won't come. Two o'clock. Curse damage ward. See you there. Gruffydd.'

Ever since the letter had arrived four days ago, Rhia had tried to compose a response. She had been unsuccessful, and despite George's reproach, she couldn't help but feel guilty. The woman was still her mother and, up until last summer, she had always been a good mother. Yet, as she felt the babies' kicks more frequently, she also remembered that she was about to become a mother as well, and her children's needs had to come first. She couldn't jeopardize their health or hers. She folded the parchment and put it back in the top drawer of the bedside table, taking out her newest copy of _Witch Weekly_ to read the pasty recipe again. After making them for George on Thursday night, she realized that she was really rubbish at making pasties. They were horrid. George ate them without complaint, and he was sympathetic enough to make them for her on Friday. He had a real knack for getting them just right, which was splendid for Rhia. She craved them all the time. Then when he saw her own copy of the magazine, he teased her to no end, especially when he found the back issues. She insisted that she only read the recipes and the romantic serial. He shook his head and offered to bin them, but she nearly tackled him to keep him from taking them away.

She was sitting at the worktop, eating her muesli and finishing up the shop's paperwork when George returned from his shower. She actually enjoyed the paperwork and was happy to do what she could to help around the shop. She had offered to test products, but George refused, at least, he said, until the babies were born.  He came up behind her, letting his towel fall as he put his arms around her, nipping at her neck and her ear. He ran a hand down the length of her side, caressing lightly along the side of her breast, and rubbing her tummy. When his lips met hers again, he expelled a sigh as her hands came around his neck and pulled him closer. He moaned when her tongue slipped into his mouth.

"When do we need to be at The Burrow?" she whispered into his mouth.

"An hour." He continued to kiss her between breaths.

"I have to shower, _cariad_."

"No, you don't. You're good," he said through more kisses.

"George."  She smiled at him, and he gathered up the towel around his body again as he took a deep breath, and smiled at her. He sat on his bed and watched her walk into the bathroom to get ready.

On this particular Sunday, George was keeping the shop open for most of the day. He worked alone in the morning and when Verity came in to close, he would leave. Sundays were usually slow for business, and this afternoon, they had plans at The Burrow. His mum's birthday was two days ago, so everyone was gathering to celebrate. George had just returned from the shop, and was attempting to wrap his mum's gift. He was having trouble, and even before she asked, he brought it over to Rhia on the sofa, handing it to her. She smiled, and fixed his torn wrapping with a flick of her wand. He happily handed over the Spellotape to her and got everything else ready. Rhia had insisted on making something – a salad of all things, but as George recently found out, there was no arguing with a pregnant woman. She thought that Hermione and Ginny were making the cake for Molly. She shouldn't have to make her own birthday cake, for Merlin's sake.

They soon found themselves in the Weasley garden. Despite the fact that one of the brothers would forever be missing, this first Sunday of the month tea was becoming a family tradition and one that Rhia relished in. She loved that no matter what they were doing, the whole family dropped or postponed it to be in attendance. Bill had spent the early part of the weekend with Fleur at Shell Cottage after leaving Hogwarts late Friday afternoon. She was going to return there with him to spend the last few weeks before the Christmas holidays. He had brought Ginny and Hermione with him from the castle school. Charlie was in from Romania and Percy had arrived later than George and Rhia, who thought they were the last to arrive. George raised his eyebrows, but refrained from teasing as Percy tucked his shirt into his trousers and straightened his glasses. Percy's face matched his hair when Charlie asked if he were plucking a bird, but he quickly turned away from his older brother.

It was a crisp beautiful day. There were still many green leaves, but others had begun to turn a rainbow of colours before they fluttered on the breeze for moments until finally settling on the ground. Rhia sat at the picnic table, watching Ginny and Hermione sort through the apples they had plucked earlier from the family's orchard. There were three varieties and while they sorted, George was juggling, lobbing one or two at Charlie lying in the grass. Charlie was deftly flicking them away with his wand, barely looking at them. Ron was the unlucky one not paying attention, and when an apple hit him in the side of the head, he shouted at them.

"Oi, you two! Enough with the bloody apples! Gits!" he muttered, almost unnoticed. Almost.

"Ronald!" his mum called to him, wagging a finger in his direction. She had just left the house and was leading Andromeda Tonks and her grandson, Teddy Lupin, outside to the garden. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the still relatively new Minister of Magic was walking behind them with Arthur, the two of them engaged in an animated discussion no one else could hear. Ginny and Hermione giggled as Ron's ears turned pink and one of them tossed an apple to Teddy as he crawled over after being set down in the grass near Charlie.  He was nearly seven months old, and was getting good on his knees, sitting up and pulling himself up on any stationary object he could grasp.

Rhia was still chuckling as George sat beside her on the table. "You know, George, your family's just brilliant."

He smiled in agreement, looking around at his parents and the rest of his family, including Harry and Hermione. And now Rhia.  He glanced back at Rhia and was pleasantly surprised when their eyes met. He felt a wave of energy surge through him, realizing that she had been looking at him, but then she quickly averted her gaze back to the apple sorting.

When he said it, he thought he had spoken quietly, but when the words came out, everyone in the garden became still, trying not to look at the couple sitting on the table. Harry was shuffling his feet and the only sound now was Teddy's giggling. Rhia's eyes darted to George and then back to Teddy hastily. He repeated himself, slightly hushed. "Marry me."

Rhia didn't look at him, but stared at her hands clasped in her lap.  Her voice shook. "I'm not marrying you just because we're having a baby together, George." She expected him to respond as he usually did, with a 'we're having two', or to ask her to think about it, but he didn't say either. He surprised her again.

"Then marry me because you love me."

Her head jerked up, startled by what he said, and she looked into his face as he continued speaking, a renewed hush coming over the garden. "Marry me because you love me, and I love you and I have since the first time you kissed me at Hogwarts." He gave her a small smile and slid along the table towards her. "Marry me because I'll make you laugh until you cry and because I'll always ruin the end of the book for you." He slid closer still. "Marry me because you love my pasties and because your smile is as bright as my hair and because you finish my sentences when I can't, and I finish your pudding and bitter when you can't." He had continued to slide closer, and now he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek as he took her hands in his. "Just marry me. _Wnei di dy mhriodi fi?_

She looked at him as tears filled her eyes, and she put her hand on his cheek. She bit her lip as one tear escaped, sliding down her face. She closed the slight distance left between them and put her lips to his, kissing him sweetly. She tasted the butterbeer he'd just finished, and she breathed into his mouth.

"Oh, _cariad_.  I do love you, George. _Gwnaf._   Yes." And she smiled, closing her eyes, kissing him again as he put his arms around her and pulled her to him, inhaling the scent of her hair and smiling as Ginny and Hermione reached them first, throwing their arms around the happy, but slightly teary couple.

"So, when will it be?" Mrs. Weasley was asking already as she approached.

"Mum," George laughed. "I know it's your birthday, but she's only just said yes. We'll talk about it at home later, and then we'll get back to you. I'll send you an owl."

"Why not right now?" Ron said in what sounded like a slightly obnoxious tone.

"I don't want to talk about it now, _Ronald_ ," George said firmly, emphasizing his brother's name.

"No, that's not what I meant," Ron said. "Why don't you just get married right now?" Everyone looked at him like he was a lunatic. George laughed and Ginny rolled her eyes. "The whole family's here, and the Minister as well," he continued, nodding his head towards Kingsley. "And we already have a cake." He was grinning, waiting for someone to respond to his outlandish idea.

George looked at Ron and then turned to Rhia, not speaking, but looking eager, his eyes bright. She smiled and without hesitation said, "We could."

George added, "I actually hate to admit it, but Ron's right. Is there anyone else you would want, though?"

Her eyes clouded in thought, but she shook her head. "No.  Well, maybe Uncle Rhodri, but he's probably not around –"

"I know where to find him. I'll bring him back with me," Kingsley said quickly, and with a pop, he was gone.

"What will I wear? I can't get married in overlarge jeans," Rhia said, concerned about their haste for the first time.

"I have something you can wear," Ginny said promptly. Rhia looked hesitant, running her hand across her large stomach as she looked at Ginny's small frame. "Don't worry – come on –we'll make it work." Rhia leaned over and kissed George's cheek before following Ginny and Hermione into the house.

George went along behind them, watching them go upstairs to Ginny's room while he kneeled in front of the fireplace to floo a few people.  It didn't take long, and he returned to the garden in a flash.  Soon after, the garden began filling with people. Lee and Angelina, Oliver and Katie, Alicia and her new beau, Neville and Hannah, Luna and all of Rhia's Jones uncles and their families.  Rhodri brought Rhia's brother, Celyn, who was looking mightily uncomfortable, but George knew he would only support Rhia. He'd been the only family member to have regular contact with her in the preceding weeks, going so far as to owl her while she stayed at his mum's to check on her health. Percy had disappeared briefly, but returned with a woman with short blond hair, whom he introduced as Audrey Corbett. She looked slightly uneasy, and she was taken aback when George gave her a big hug, and had an equally demonstrative one for Percy.

Molly and Rhodri's wife, Gwenllian, had things well under control, cooking and ordering Charlie around with the decorating duties.  George laughed at Charlie's look of mutiny, but went in a different direction to avoid his older brother's wrath. He smiled as his eyes found the brother he was looking for.

"Oi, Ron." Ron looked at his approaching brother with a mix of apprehension and amusement. "You know, Ronald, this was all your idea," he said in an accusatory tone that made Ron wince momentarily and he nodded nervously as George continued. "Would you like to be my best man?"

Ron was taken aback, stuttering, "S-S-Sorry? You…you want me…to be…your best man?" Without waiting for George to answer, he responded, happily, "Of course, George. I'd…I'd be…h-h-happy to." They embraced briefly, both smiling, looking around at the resulting chaos to Ron's "bright" idea.  George could see Hermione leading Rhia's uncle into the house, and then Bill was by his side.

"You should change. Do you have any dress robes?"

"I'll be right back." He disapparated, returning in moments with his dress robes thrown over one arm and Verity clinging to the other.

"I closed up – special day and all." Bill laughed as George ran into the house to change. It was nice to have such a happy day at The Burrow.

"Where's George?" Ron asked Bill.

"Inside changing."

"No.  I found his dress robes on his bed. He's not in there."

Bill stared at Ron, feeling an overwhelming sense of trepidation.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I found his dress robes on his bed, and I checked with Hermione. He hasn't snuck in to see Rhia. He's not in the house, Bill." They were whispering urgently.

"Looking for me?"

They both turned to find George smiling behind them, perfectly coiffed in his dress robes, hair combed in place, broad grin plastered across his face.

"George," Ron said severely. "Where have you been?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Are you taking the mickey out of me? What were you doing in Diagon Alley – squeezing in one more bachelor day?"

"No, little bro, big bro," he said, looking from one brother to the other. "We can't get married without rings. I was buying rings." He lobbed the box at Ron, who caught it after fumbling it in a spectacular display of dexterity. "You're supposed to hold them, right?"

Ron gave his brother a grin, placing the box carefully in his robe pocket, and shaking his head as George bounced away. Ron turned to Bill. "I think I'm more nervous than he is." Bill laughed, nodding in agreement.

The time between George asking Rhia to marry him and the guests taking their seats was less than two and a half hours. George was standing at the end of the makeshift aisle with Ron and Kingsley.  Everyone else was sitting, talking quietly. George's parents were sitting with Rhia's aunt, leaving a space for her uncle, who would walk her down the short aisle. Ginny poked her head out and after finally getting Harry's attention, waited until he flicked his wand, starting the music. She was the first one down the aisle, followed by Hermione. When they both reached the front row, they paused and turned, and everyone followed the direction of their gaze to the back of the garden.

George inhaled deeply, his knees faltering as Rhia and her uncle came into view. Ron grasped his elbow, steadying him. George chuckled sheepishly, surprised by how intense his feelings were right at this moment. He looked down the aisle, seeing only the woman who would, in mere moments, be his wife, beginning today, lasting until forever. He felt his heart beating rapidly and when their eyes met, and she smiled at him, he thought his heart would stop.  He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care.  She might believe that he saved her on that fateful day in May, but he knew the truth. She had truly saved him when she reappeared into his life, bringing with her the babies they'd conceived.

The sage cotton dress Ginny had adorned her in clung in all the right places and was gathered above her baby belly tied by a matching sash that trailed down her back. The hem of the dress came to just below her knee, and George saw the same colour shoes. It was unusual for George to notice all of this, but he was taking in everything his almost-wife was. Her shoulders were bare and as he looked at the circlet on her head with leaves interwoven with the same sage sash, he remembered their lazy morning in bed when he kissed her bare shoulder. He was distracted from his daydream by the reality, seeing the multi-coloured leaves and single daffodil in the circlet as she and her uncle drew nearer. George couldn't take his eyes away from her. He couldn't believe how lovely she looked and how lucky he was. She drew closer, and he could hear Kingsley speaking to Rhia's uncle, and when Rhodri answered and then Rhia put her hand on his, George became aware of an overpowering sense of calm. Ron released his elbow as George took a step towards Rhia and they held hands, she looking up at him and him down at her, beaming.

Kingsley spoke beautifully about what marriage means and that the fact they were bringing children into this new, safer world so soon proved their commitment to one another and their confidence in the future.  They and their families had both been instrumental in helping to create this safe world and now they would gain from it.  Kingsley asked if either wanted to say anything to the other, turning first to George.

He smiled at Rhia, tears welling in his eyes. He squeezed her hands.

"You're so beautiful; I'm speechless." He touched her face, wiping away an escaping tear on her cheek. He spoke his next words slowly, wanting them to be right. " _R_ _wy'n dy garu di_ , Rhiannon. I've never had feelings for another woman the way I have for you. I want to spend my life with you."

She was so pleased with his learning some Welsh, and after his simple declaration, it was her turn now.

"Before you knew anything about me or the babies, when my world was at its darkest, you took me in and cared for me, no questions asked.  You gave me all that you had, expecting nothing in return; not even an explanation. It didn't take long before I knew that I wanted to spend my life with you. I could never meet a better man than George Weasley." She touched his face with her palm, and whispered, "I love you."

They looked at Kingsley expectantly. Rhia lost her smile briefly as her mouth opened; stunned at the one thing they hadn't talked about when they were asked for the rings. When she looked at George, and saw his grin, she knew that, as usual, he was prepared. Ron handed Kingsley the velvet box. They exchanged their rings with shaking hands. Tears were gliding down both of their cheeks at this point, and they laughed when the Minister finally said, "Kiss your bride, George." George took a deep breath, cupping her face with both of his hands as he lightly touched her lips with his.  Her eyes fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss, moving one arm around her waist, drawing her closer, their foreheads pressed together amid excited applause.

George and Rhia danced their first dance as husband and wife while everyone watched. They were soon joined by their friends and family.  While George twirled his mum around the dance floor, Rhia danced with her uncle, then Mr. Weasley and Minister Shacklebolt, after whom came her brother and then all of George's brothers lined up for their turns. By the time she returned to George's arms, she was near collapse from exhaustion, but she re-energized at his touch when he put his arms around his new wife's waist, leading her to more dancing. He kissed her cheek, and nipped at her ear, murmuring, "I love you so much, wife."

She smiled and she turned her head so their lips would meet. He tried to kiss her appropriately for the public setting, but they got a little carried away, and this did not go unnoticed. Bill and Charlie hooted like they had on the train platform and Rhia blushed again. George smiled at them but soon returned his gaze to his wife, and despite her embarrassed protest, he let his lips linger, knowing that eventually his brothers would leave them alone.  And if they didn't, he didn't care. He felt happy and light, and he looked forward to taking Rhia back to his, their flat, actually. He kissed her forehead and they swayed to the wizard wireless as the sun set, casting an orange glow over everything.  They were attentive to the quiet music and the beating of their hearts so close together. George sprung back as he felt the babies kick and he laughed as Rhia's stomach pressed into his.  He could not imagine any day happier than this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Mam– mum, mother  
> Cariad – love, sweetheart, darling  
> Wnei di dy mhriodi fi?– Will you marry me?  
> Gwnaf. – I will.  
> Rwy'n dy garu di – I love you


	12. It's A Matched Set

Rhia woke up suddenly cold, pulling the covers up to her neck. She wanted to snuggle next to George's warm body, against his broad chest. She kept sliding back, trying to feel him against her, but as she ultimately backed into the even colder wall, she remembered that George was in Egypt on a business trip. She shivered, but smiled as she thought about the previous morning.

_She was the first to wake up. There was a slight chill to the air and she snuggled closer to George. She tilted her head and saw a mound of snow accumulating outside the small window above the bed.  From this angle, everything beyond the window was white. She rested the back of her head against George's chest, and was suddenly warm as his arm went around her, grasping her shoulder.  She smiled as she saw his second to last finger with the glimmering reflection from the bright whiteness. She touched the cold metal, her finger looking small against his much larger hand; the plain gold ring expressing so much. She glanced at her own hand, and at the second ring she had received one week ago for Christmas._

_George had truly surprised her when she woke up Christmas morning already wearing it. For a few moments, he pretended that he had no idea what she was talking about, but he could finally contain his excitement no longer, and he was thrilled that she liked it so much.  "I just want you to have everything," she remembered him saying._ He is so thoughtful _.  She turned to face him now, surveying his sleeping face._ So handsome _.  She smiled. She leaned forward, trying not to disturb his sleep, not an easy feat with breasts and belly almost doubling her size, but she managed to reach his lips with hers. His eyes fluttered open, and he groggily kissed her, making an effort to pull her closer._ Good luck with that _.  She laughed, and he smiled._

_After a lazy morning in bed, they spent the rest of their time together in the shop. George flooed Verity to tell her to stay home in the bad weather – he anticipated closing early, which he eventually did. They spent the rest of their afternoon coordinating Ron's schedule and arranging for Lee to stay at the flat, beginning tomorrow night, while George was away for the next few days.  Rhia helped him pack and tucked in little notes where he would least expect to find them: inside one sock, in his money pouch, his potions kit, even one wrapped around his alarm clock. Once he was packed, they sat quietly together on the sofa. They talked about last week's other Christmas surprise from Bill and Fleur.  They were expecting their own baby at the end of April or early in May. This first Christmas without Fred was difficult for all of the Weasleys, but it was made slightly more bearable by the new generation of Weasleys about to be born in the new year._

Rhia leaned against the wall, missing George's warmth and the quiet snores that usually woke her. She often complained about them, but now, she wouldn't have minded. Save for those three weeks she spent at The Burrow, they hadn't been apart since she had moved in six months ago. This was only the first morning. She knew in her mind that he would only be away for a few days, but she still missed him. She buried her face in his part of the pillow, breathing in his scent and longing for him to be next to her. She jumped as the babies began their morning exercises.  Laughing, she rolled out of bed and fixed herself some porridge before heading down into the shop to open. She rolled her eyes as George's voice echoed in her mind as she went down one step at a time. _You should really wait for Verity, you know._

"I know."

* *

Verity was surprised to find the joke shop already open when she arrived.  She was even more surprised to find Rhiannon behind the display counter, putting the money in the till. She stepped briefly into the office to put on her work robes. "Rhia, what are you doing down here? Where's George?"

Rhia looked up from counting knuts, and quickly jotted down the amount she left off at. "George is in Egypt, buying those rare potion supplies."

"I thought that was scheduled for the middle of February."

"It was, but he owled them over the Christmas holidays to move the meeting up by a month so he would be sure to be home when the babies were born." She twisted the ring on her left hand. She still wasn't used to wearing it; she wasn't used to being Mrs. George Weasley. She smiled down at her wedding ring, and then looked back up at Verity. "Sorry. I miss him."

"Will Ron be in today to help?"

"Yes.  He told me secretly that he would be late; he didn't want George to know. I didn't think it would hurt to open the shop before you got here. And, anyway, as long as I don't do too much, I'll be fine. I'm planning on holding out for the last four weeks."

"Good.  I don't want to deliver those babies here, all right?"

Rhia laughed. They both turned in the direction of the chiming door. The door was half open, and Rhia recognized the woman entering. The woman's back was still turned and Rhia hadn't been seen yet by her mother. She could try and sneak over to the office before she was fully in the shop. Verity had already begun to put out the rest of the new supply of Daydream Charms that George had left on the display counter, and when her mam turned and entered with Gruffydd and their nephew Dai in tow, Rhia knew it was too late to run. She took a deep breath, and waited. Her mother approached the counter as Dai wandered around the shop, and Gruffydd remained close but a safe distance away.

Mrs. Jones looked at Rhia curiously. "Excuse me, have we met?"  Her voice was uncertain, very quiet and a bit shaky.

"Sorry?"

"You seem very familiar. Have we met before?"

Rhia looked over her mother's shoulder at her brother, who looked unnerved and shook his head slowly. Rhia looked into her mother's face. It seemed that she'd aged a great deal since she had last seen her five months ago at the Ministry Memorial.  "No, we've never met before."

Mrs. Jones put out her hand, which Rhia took, gently shaking it.  "I'm Marared Jones. My grandson Dai is looking around for a bit if that's all right."

"Yes, of course," Rhia responded quietly. "I'm Rhiannon Weasley. Feel free to look around." Her eyes met her brother's for the second time in as many moments.

"Oh, Weasley, is it?" she asked. "Do you own the shop then?"

"My husband does."

In the next moment, the door clattered open, and the tall lanky redhead was stumbling in, pulling his magenta robes on as he came crashing through, letting the door slam. He cringed at the sound of wood hitting wood, but was noticeably relieved when the window didn't break. Rhia smiled at him, but he saw Gruffydd first and recognized him.

"Is everything all right, Rhia?"

"Is this your husband?"

"No, Mrs. Jones," Rhia responded as Ron turned to face the older woman.  "He's my brother-in-law. My husband's out of town."

"He should hurry home before that baby comes," she said, reaching a hand out to touch Rhia's generous belly.

"He'll be here." She smiled kindly at her mother, feeling conflicted and very sad.

Her mother rubbed her hand softly back and forth across Rhia's girth, humming what Rhia remembered as a lullaby she used to hear at home.  Her mother spoke softly.

"Rhiannon, is it? I had a daughter named Rhiannon. I think she died. I haven't seen her in ages. She was a beautiful girl." She looked into Rhia's eyes. "Her hair was like yours, but longer." Rhia glanced at her brother and then back at Ron. "Well, if you're here, I'll go up again.  If you need me, just come and get me." She pulled herself away from her mother's touch and walked towards the back room.  "Good luck with your baby," Marared called to her daughter.

"Cheers," she said in a hushed voice that threatened to crack.

Ron nodded to Rhia as she stepped through the curtain into the office.  She paused to sit at George's desk, settling her hands over her face, unable to contain her tears any longer.

* *

Lee arrived soon after closing, knocking on the wall as he climbed up the stairs. "Rhia, you're decent, aren't you?" He laughed when she answered 'no,' but that didn't stop him from entering the flat. "Of course you are." He found her lying on the sofa, reading _Witch Weekly_.  "Does George know you read that rubbish?"

"He bought this one for me before he left yesterday." Lee's eyebrows rose. "He was afraid I'd go out into big bad scary Diagon Alley and get it for myself while he was away. He's considering a subscription service."

"You're joking?"

"No."

"I know marriage changes a man, but still I'm surprised. I brought tea – pasties." When she smiled, he returned a lovely one of his own. Rhia felt a twinge. _Bloody hormones. He was a handsome man._

"Actually, George made this and dropped them off at my flat. He said you'd want them today."

"He did that?"

Lee nodded.

"He is so thoughtful."

"Lovesick, I'd say. Has he taken any of his own potions?"

"No.  I'm irresistible."

"That you are," Lee laughed. Rhia winced and held her stomach for a moment. "Are you all right, Rhia?" She nodded, but was unable to speak. Lee was by her side in a moment, one arm going around her back, the other touching her stomach. "Are you all right?" he repeated. She nodded. "Say something."

"It's fine," she breathed awkwardly, a pant expelling painfully.  "It happens sometimes."

"That intense?"

"No, that…was a first. It's fine, though." He helped her sit back, and then prepared the pasties and pumpkin juice.

"George told me to sleep in Fred's bed. Do you think he meant it?"

"If he told you to, I'm sure he meant it. You don't suppose he wanted you to sleep with me?"

Lee laughed. "No. Probably not."

Tea went by uneventfully after that, the two of them retired for the night, and soon it was morning.

Rhia lay in bed, relishing the quiet. Mornings were usually peaceful, broken up only by George's snoring. Today, it was Lee's snoring coming from Fred's bed. She smiled, but only for a moment. A sudden panic was sweeping through her.  She was drenched, soaking wet in fact. At first, Rhia thought it was sweat. But that didn't make much sense on such a cold January day. Then she wondered if perhaps her bladder had taken advantage of her in her slumber, but she soon realized that was not it either. There was no funny smell, just a wetness under and all around her. She sat up, and that was when it happened.

Lee jumped up as she screamed out his name. He was immediately awake, no moments to spare wondering where he was or who was calling him. It was simple, complete clarity. He ran to Rhia's bed and kneeled beside it, panic covering his face, seeping into his voice. Simple clarity and panic all at the same time.  Something was wrong with Rhia. Their eyes met, and Rhia began to panic herself, although she was impressed with her restraint in not bursting into tears. Lee nodded, and they both knew what was happening.

Lee helped her into the shower, transfiguring a bucket into a chair for her. He left her clean clothes on the toilet lid and he went to dress and floo the Weasleys. He ran down and left a note for Verity, checking on the locking wards and the closed sign. When he returned to the flat, Rhia was dressed and sitting on Fred's messy bed, waiting for him. She smiled wanly. "I'll bet you hadn't expected this when you signed on for babysitting duty."

"Too true. I didn't expect the real babies for a few more weeks.  Molly's meeting us at St. Mungo's and once we get there, I'll owl George."

She nodded, and it was now that she began to cry. "He's not going to make it in time, is he?"

"He'll be there," Lee reassured, but they both knew that it would not be a good bet. He helped her into the fireplace and held her by one arm, his other carrying a small case. She leaned on him as he threw the powder and called out, "St. Mungo's."

Upon arriving and checking in, Lee left her in the waiting area to find the owlry, paying extra for the fastest owl available.

They entered the patient room together. Everything was white.  If it wasn't painted white, it shone white, from the lamps that were brightly lit to the sheet on the large bed. The curtains were white, the slippers they gave Rhia were white, the dressing gown she was expected to wear was white with pale blue dots across it.  She looked at Lee and smiled at his dark dreadlocks and his dark cheeks as they rose with his smile. He assisted her onto the bed, and they waited for the Healer…And they waited for the Healer…And they waited for the Healer. When the Healer finally arrived, Lee was holding Rhia's hand as she squeezed him and winced in pain. She had her other hand held over her stomach.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I'm Healer Bayley. I'll be delivering your baby today. Is this your first?"

Rhia clenched her teeth and held Lee's hand in a steel grip.  "Two," she breathed out.

"And neither of them are mine," Lee added quickly.

Rhia laughed. "You'll be godfather, though."

He nodded with a broad smile. "I'm not Mr. Weasley either.  Hopefully, he'll be here soon. I don't really want to witness this yet."

"It's a beautiful moment, Mr…"

"Jordan.  Lee Jordan."

"It's the most wonderful moment in a person's life," the Healer stated. "How do you feel?" she asked Rhia.

"Not so wonderful." She gritted her teeth, and Lee stifled a laugh by leaning into her pillow. They both received a glare from the serious-faced Healer who would soon have her hands full.

"Oh," Rhia cried out, and Lee gripped her hand tighter. The pain soon passed and Rhia rested her head back against the pillow, keeping Lee's hand in hers, resting on her stomach. Lee almost jumped back the first time he felt a kick against his hand. Rhia closed her eyes, and looked as though she were sleeping. It had only been an hour since their arrival. Every ten minutes, like clockwork, there would be another painful contraction, sometimes followed by kicking. This went on for another two hours, and still no George and no babies. _Maybe they're waiting for Daddy._

"A footballer, I think," he said after the most recent kick.  "Are you going to be alright for a bit?" She nodded, but didn't open her eyes or speak. "I'm going to send another owl, and see if George's family is here yet. Is that all right?"  She nodded again.

* *

George peered through the clear window, and saw two Healers in lime green jackets. He saw one of the Healers sitting near Rhia's legs, which were positioned knees up. The second Healer was checking her torso, and when this Healer moved, George realized that it was Ian. As he saw Lee sitting beside her, his head very close to hers, whispering in her ear, his hand on hers, resting on his babies, he felt a pang. It was very similar to what he felt at the Hogwarts Express with his brother. It soon passed as gratitude washed over him. He was so thankful that he forced Rhia to have company while he was away, and that she didn't argue with him over it.

When he saw Rhia's face, he smiled. He thought she looked beautiful; hair damp, obscuring parts of her face, the straight red strands framing her face nicely. Her cheeks were flushed and she was sweaty; she looked a bit worn out, but bright, luminous even. Suddenly, her face contorted in pain, and Lee grabbed her hand with his second one and held it, looking at the closest Healer, who put her hands up under the sheet covering Rhia's legs and lower body.

George thought that he should really be in there with her, but then when Lee moved again, he saw Rhia's face go back to a slight smile as she rested her head against the pillow and she closed her eyes. He could see her large torso also covered by the sheet as her hands rested on it, patting softly. He was glad that he was playing voyeur. He didn't like seeing her in pain, but to him her labour was an amazing thing. Part of him wished that he could go through it for her, but another part of him, the honest part, was glad that he couldn't.

George took a deep breath and entered the birthing room, not sure of what he would say when Rhia noticed him there. The second Healer, a middle-aged woman, noticed him first. "You can't be in here. You'll need to leave."

Lee smiled, dropping Rhia's hand. She opened her eyes, and when she saw George smiling at her, she answered, "It's all right, Emma. He's the Dad." Lee stood and hugged George, shaking his hand at the same time. He stepped back to Rhia, and leaning down, kissed her on top of her head. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, whispering, "Thank you." She turned to George, "What took you so long, Daddy?"

George approached the bed, and reached out a hand to touch her stomach as Lee, Emma and Ian gave them some privacy. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You've almost missed it," she laughed. "Where's my kiss?"  He leaned down and as his lips touched hers, she moaned, biting back a cry of pain. She grabbed his hand and crushed it within her own until the contraction finally passed. She was panting and breathing heavy again. "Can we try that again?"

He leaned down once more and kissed her deeply, murmuring, "I love you." He laughed as his hand on her stomach moved as one or both of his babies was putting pressure on it from the inside.  George's hand was vibrating, and his smile radiated so that he thought he could light the whole room. Rhia had begun squeezing his other hand for a second time, and he was painfully aware of how much pain she was in now. He moved the hand on her stomach to her shoulder.

"What can I do?"

Rhia had begun panting and making funny breathing sounds, and then she stopped, and she smiled at him. "I think they want to meet their daddy. Find a seat."

Tears began to pool in his eyes as he nodded his head. He was momentarily speechless.

"How was Egypt?" she asked, trying to distract herself from this next contraction.

"Eventful.  I can't wait to show you the stuff I got there to use in the workshop. I wish I could have stayed longer. They had an amazing assortment of potions ingredients. I picked up several of them. I have some great ideas for a cluster of new Weasley products." When she frowned, he added, "…which will all wait until we've settled the babies into their new home, and you've recovered from this dreadful ordeal." He stopped speaking for a second, and then blurted out, "I missed you so."

She clutched his hand again as the pain enveloped her once more.  She was panting. "I think I need the Healer. Please."

It took a moment to dislodge himself from her vice like grip, but George ran to the door, shouting for the Healer. Emma and Ian both rushed in with George's mum looking through the window in the door and as Emma put her hand between Rhia's legs, said, "This baby's coming now. I can feel its head." She directed George to sit in the chair next to Rhia's head, and after about ten minutes of almost constant pushing, George could see the matted wet red hair of his first child emerging from Rhia's body. It was bizarre to see his baby half inside of her, the woman he loved more than his own life, and then the baby was completely out.

The midwife used her wand to sever the umbilical cord and Ian took the squirming, screaming, tiny thing to a small table to clean it off.  Rhia looked at George, the same question lying between them, but he shrugged his shoulders, and looked at the Healer-midwife, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, sorry, you two. You have a girl."  They both laughed in relief, but as Ian was bringing their daughter back over to meet her parents, Rhia felt another wave of intense pain.

"I guess the second one is anxious to join its sister," the Healer-midwife said at the suddenness of Rhia's new contraction pain. George held Rhia's hand tightly with one hand, already bruised from her clutching, and used his other hand to stroke her hair as he whispered into her ear that it would be alright and that she was almost finished and that she was doing so well. The Healer-midwife put her hands inside Rhia again, and looked relieved that this was going to be a short childbirth.

She patted Rhia's knee gently, asking, "Are you ready to push now, Rhiannon?" Rhia nodded slowly. She was getting very tired, but as she looked at George's excited eyes, she became re-energized. "Okay Rhia, push, now." Rhia did as she was told, letting a hoarse scream escape from her lips. George kissed her forehead, whispering comforting words to her as she continued to push. Another tiny red-haired head slid out easily as did this baby's shoulders and the rest of its body. After cutting the cord, Emma handed this shrieking baby over to Ian as well, who announced, "One of each, mates. This baby's a lad." Rhia was handed her daughter now, and a few minutes later, Ian came over and laid her son in her other arm. Rhia had begun to cry as she watched her little ones resting against her chest, in her arms, and as she gazed at George, she had never seen him look so delighted. He had never felt such joy before, staring down at his family.

"So, what are their names?" Ian asked expectantly.

George looked at Rhia, eagerly. He knew she had had a lot of time to think about it, but he still had no idea what she decided. She refused to tell him what names she was choosing. His mistake was that when she asked him what he wanted to name them, he deferred to her, and she had kept it under wraps. She beamed at him as he asked her again, "So, what are our children's names?"

"Well, if it was a girl, I wanted to call her Aubrey, and if it was a boy, I was thinking something also with an 'A', but –"

"So, it's Aubrey and what 'A' name then –"

"No.  I said that I fancied them having the same first initial, but the more I thought about what to name this little Weasley boy, I don't know. I kept thinking that he was the first Weasley grandson, and I thought there was really only one name for that son."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"If you like, she can be Aubrey." George nodded in agreement.  "For this little lad, though, I think…I think we should call him…Fred. Would that be alright? I'm thinking that if it's alright with you and your mum, he could be Fred. What do you think?"

George met her gaze, and then stared at his son as tears finally began to flow from his eyes. He stood up, but immediately leaned over placing a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead and then his son's, and then he looked at Rhia, and after a moment, he kissed her lightly on the lips again. She responded by grabbing his hand and, to his glee, kissing him more deeply, more intimately.

"You should rest," he said softly, his warm breath caressing her face as she smiled.

"I will, but I think the grandparents want to meet them."

"Be right back," Ian called over. He stepped out of the room, and he called George's Mum and Dad over. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, would you like to come in and meet your new grandchildren?"

"What are they?" Ginny asked as everyone leapt up. Bill took Fleur in his arms, holding her close, his hand on her small, still flat stomach.

"She's had a set – one of each. The lass is three minutes older than the lad." As everyone crowded closer to Ian, he was forced to raise his voice, "Grandparents only, please."

George conjured two more chairs for his parents, and as they sat, they peered over at the tiny sleeping pair of children in their mother's arms. George handed his father their daughter, saying, "This little one is the older twin, by three minutes. And you should all know that Rhia chose the names –"

"Coward.  You agreed to the names."

"I did indeed. This little lass," he said running a finger through hair coloured identically to his own, "is Aubrey, and the lad," he added, handing him carefully to his own mum, "is Fred."  He and his mum's eyes met and stayed steady, and then she looked at Rhia and they exchanged smiles.

Mrs. Weasley was holding Fred's little finger, and spoke softly, "His hair seems a bit darker than Aubrey's – closer to Rhiannon's colouring."

George added with a laugh, "Well, mum, you'll always know this Fred from his twin." He leaned over Rhia, and kissed her forehead.  "You get rest while everyone's here to help with them. I'll be back in a bit."

"Where are you going?" she grabbed his sleeve.

"It's a surprise, but I'll owl Celyn for you, alright?" She nodded with a beaming smile.

* *

Upon George's returning, he found the birthing room filled with his entire family. George didn't think anyone else would fit in there. He stood outside the door, holding a large bundle of flowers, relishing in the elation he was feeling in this instant.  Abruptly, and unexpectedly, his way was barred by Rhia's oldest brother, Gruffydd who appeared out of nowhere.

"I heard that my sister had her baby."

George hesitated. He didn't like Gruffydd, and he knew that he hadn't had any positive contact with Rhia for at least seven months. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"I heard that my sister had her baby," he repeated.

"Two, actually."

"Two?"  George nodded, almost laughing at her brother's surprise.  "You must be quite the proud father," Gruffydd continued.  "You are the father, aren't you?"

"I am – on both matters. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to see my sister. Please."

"No."

He grimaced. "That's it? Just no?"

"Just no. I'll tell Rhia that you were here asking after her, and she'll decide if she wants to see you. I'm sure she'll owl you when…if she's ready."

Gruffydd nodded slowly, and stepped away, turning, but immediately turned back to George, put out his hand, and said, "Congratulations."  George hesitated, but soon enough grasped his hand, and then Gruffydd left, regretfully proceeding down the corridor, looking back only once.

As George entered the room, the babies started crying in unison, so George rested the flowers on a nearby table as his eyes filled with tears again and he took up little Fred, and held his son close to his chest, beginning to rock him back to sleep whispering into his tiny ear while Rhia began to nurse their daughter, and the room became quiet once more. He put Rhia's brother out of his mind, and he could not imagine any day ever being better than this.


	13. Canary Creams

_Rhia woke up alone in the bed. Raising her arms over her head, she stretched, yawning quietly. They had to be quiet while the babies slept. Every tiny sound usually disturbed little Fred, but he was getting better each day. She pulled up the sheet, covering herself to her neck and rolled over to face the crib across the room. The babies were still sharing one crib while they remained small enough. She smiled, seeing George kneeling next to it, arms folded over the rail and resting his cheek on his hands._

" _What are you doing?" she whispered._

" _Watching them."_

" _What are they doing?"_

" _Nothing.  Just sleeping." He continued to stare at them, one hand reaching towards a little red-haired head, but not touching, not wanting to disturb their sleep. They were such good babies.  Well, Aubrey was a content baby. She already slept through the night, but Fred…Fred was restless. He was still nursing every three hours or so, and he kept his Daddy awake after that. Rhia would often find George asleep on the sofa with the wireless on low as Fred slept curled up in the crook of his arm, both of them snoring. For all that George loved being in the shop, now he loved coming home from it more, and would often lay on the floor of their flat, one twin on his chest, the other propped on his raised knees, all three of them cooing contentedly, a huge smile plastered across his face._

_She was watching her husband now. He hadn't so much as turned his head when she spoke to him, completely spellbound by his children.  She followed the line of his shoulders with her eyes, staring at her husband's broad freckled back, his hair just reaching his shoulder blades, watching it rise and fall with each breath. She smiled, feeling herself tingling. She rose from the bed, staying very quiet and when she was standing behind George, she ran a finger from one shoulder across his back, tugging gently on his hair and leaning against him to nibble on his ear. He had been captivated by his babies, still staring, but when he felt Rhia's body press against his back, his body shuddered and his head twitched, and as he swallowed, he noticed her warm skin, soft and willowy curving into his back. She continued to lick his ear, still smiling, knowing that he was now noticing that she was naked. He carefully extracted his hands from the twins' crib and turned to face his wife._

_George was still kneeling before her as he smiled. He reached out one finger, touching the center of her neck and traced his way slowly along her soft round breast ending at her dark, hard nipple. He rolled it between two fingers, and wasn't taken by surprise when some milk squeezed out. He remained on his knees and brought his mouth to her dripping breast, flicking his tongue over it, tasting her, then taking as much of it as he could manage into his mouth, sucking and nibbling and getting as much milk as she would let him. When she went to push him away, his arms went around her waist and pulled her against his mouth, using his tongue to lap as much as he could. Rhia felt a rush as George swallowed and then spoke softly._

" _I love you," he whispered into her breasts. "I love how you taste. So sweet." He sighed as she took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth. "A soft moan was all he could manage. He stood, lifting her as he did, and carried her to their bed, gently setting her down and covering her body with his.  There was a flash of light that they didn't see, and they almost didn't hear someone calling their names. They ignored Percy as George entered Rhia with a grunt. She moaned into his ear and as her hips rose to meet his in a frenzied way, Percy's voice became more urgent._

" _Just wait a moment," George grunted, more into Rhia's neck than towards the fireplace. As he finally released, one twin began to cry and then the second. Now, Percy was saying his name, and then Rhia was crying out his name, but there was Percy's voice again, louder, more urgent even than Rhia._

" _George!  Bloody hell, George! Fleur's having the baby! Right now! Get your arse out of bed!" And with a green flash of light, he was gone. George and Rhia collapsed in a fit of giggles._

* *

Rhia could still hear a baby's cry and looking around the joke shop, she adjusted her robes, trying to keep her breasts from leaking before George brought the baby down. In the three years that had passed since little Victoire had been born, Rhia was both taken aback and wonderfully happy at how close she and George had become.  They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. She had taken on a much larger role at the shop now that Verity had left. Rhia helped to ease George over the fact that she couldn't stay forever. Once she had married Quinn next door, it was only a matter of time before she left for good. After all, Quinn owned his own business as well. Of course, he would expect his wife to work with him. And now that she was eight months pregnant, her leaving should have been no surprise to George, but it was.  He hadn't even noticed her expanding waistline.

Despite her bringing very little to their relationship and marriage in a monetary way, Rhia shared equally with George. She still hadn't been able to enter the Healer program at St. Mungo's, but she knew enough to get by at home. Which was lucky for George when he fell down the workshop stairs a year ago, breaking his leg. And again this year, when the twins got dragon pox and gave them to Victoire, there was hell to pay; Fleur forgave her when she treated Victoire with her mother's recipe for the calming potion. It worked much better than the one they'd received from their own Healer. Right now, she was too busy with the shop and taking care of her young family to think about her dream to become a Healer.

Rhia opened the till to put the money in, and jumped back. A loud crack had sounded as soon as the drawer slid open. Rhia looked at Ron who had just entered the joke shop. He was carrying Aubrey and began to laugh as he set her down on her feet. Rhia was covered in a rainbow of shredded paper confetti. Some was still floating down from the ceiling. George had found bags of confetti in a Muggle party store, and loved torturing his wife by having them explode where and when she least expected it.  Yesterday morning, it was in the shower, but that did not go as planned. He hadn't expected the tiny bits of paper to practically dissolve and clog the drain as well as turn the washing cloths into the colours of the rainbow. She frowned at Ron and spoke, trying to keep her voice even.

"Where are Fred and George?"

"Um, well, er –"

Just then, Fred emerged from behind Ron's legs. Rhia looked into Ron's sheepish face as she looked at her son who was completely concealed under yellow canary feathers. "George!" she shouted beyond Ron. She turned back to Ron. "Where is my husband, Ron?"

"Um," Ron began, ears turning red. "Actually, Rhia, I think he's hiding."

"Only if he knows what's good for him."

"And he's holding the baby."

"Traitor," George called out from behind the office curtain.

" _Adwr_!  Coward!" Rhia shouted at him. "How big was the sweet?"

George peeked out from behind the curtain holding his tiny daughter close to his cheek. "One piece, that's all."

"A whole one?" She looked at Fred, who had been desperately trying not to cry. He nodded slowly, and put out his hand with the small remainder still in it.

"I share wif Aubrey."

"Oh no you do not," she said, pointing towards the counter. "Bin it."

"Yes mum." He obeyed and quickly returned. "I wanted sweet, mum."

"Where do you get your sweets?"

He rolled his eyes, looking very much like his father. "Next door at Uncle Quinn's."

"Do you eat sweets from your father's shop?"

"No, mum, but –"

"No buts."

"But it was upstairs," he continued quickly. "It was in the flat; in the kitchen."

She raised her eyes to glare at her husband who had conveniently vanished. She looked at her son again. She pointed towards the swishing curtain. "Go sit in the office until you moult."

"Yes mum," he mumbled, trudging away.

Rhia returned to the counter to continue her work, scratching on the parchment. She glared at the scratches she was making, and when the quill snapped in half, it did not improve her mood.

Finally, George emerged, still holding baby Hannah. Ron took him aside quickly. "Has he moulted yet?"

"He's almost finished. The office is a real mess."

"And you know who's cleaning that up," Rhia called from the counter.

"Yes, love."

"Don't _you_ love me."

"That's not what you said last night – or this morning for that matter."

As she glared at him with no hint of humour, Ron whispered, "I don't understand, George. You and I – we married women exactly like mum. What the bloody hell were we thinking?"

George chuckled and shook his head, not thinking about his mum, but wondering how he would get back into his wife's good graces.  Their life together had been wonderful for their small family.  With the surprise of Hannah's birth, they had stretched the upstairs flat about as far as it would go. Aubrey and Fred were in small beds placed in an 'L' shape and Hannah had the crib.  He thought back to Christmas when Rhia had asked about looking for a house in nearby London, but George was adamant about waiting until they could afford a house in the country, like they had both grown up in. That had been a considerable argument. And they rarely argued. In fact, their last big argument before that had resulted in Hannah. He smiled at the memory, kissing his daughter's pinched face. He watched Rhia for a moment more and then he handed Hannah to Uncle Ron, and moved closer to the counter, putting the most apologetic look on his face that he could muster without laughing.

Rhia looked at him, into his eyes, and he spoke very quietly to her.  He took her hand, stroking her palm with gentle fingers, but she pulled it away. They were arguing quietly. It was not a new argument. He may have been the inventor, the expert in the shop, but despite having no formal training, she came from a family of Healers and she was the expert there. George just didn't understand how those sweets worked on children, and laughing and joking about it was the reason why Fred and Aubrey couldn't be left alone in the shop. He usually bowed to her Healer expertise, but he countered that the sweets were harmless; they wore off in minutes. Except on children, she countered. It took much longer to wear off on children than teenagers or adults, his usual consumer. George flung his head across the counter, catching her off guard with a kiss. She withdrew her head, almost violently.

"I have work to do. And you," she paused for effect. "You have an office to clean." She stepped away from the counter and began to restock the pet care products.

"I can't clean it yet. He hasn't finished moulting."  Rhia moved into the funny hats section, and began to straighten them and organize them properly. Someone had been trying on all of the hats, and left them in such disarray that Rhia thought of putting them under glass. Suddenly, George grabbed her from behind, and grasping her hands, he pulled her back into him, holding her tightly. The hats in her hand dropped to the floor.

"George! Let me go."

"Not until you snog me." His tongue flicked against her ear.

"I am not snogging you, George."

"Good," Ron called over. "I definitely don't want to see that."

Fred emerged from the back room, still covered in feathers. One look at his mum's angry glare sent him right back into the office.  George had managed to twist Rhia until she was facing him, and he drew her closer, staring into her dark eyes. He took a chance and released her hands, running his hands up her arms to rest a moment on her shoulders. Then he ran a finger along her cheek and kissed her there. He put one hand in her hair, and without saying a word, pulled her head to his, touching his lips to hers, lightly at first. When her hand reached for and touched his face without slapping him, he encircled her completely in his arms, pressing his lips to hers harder, his tongue begging them to part, which they did. Readily.

He smiled when she moaned his name as his tongue ran along the roof of her mouth. She pushed her lower body against his, and put her arms around his waist, letting one hand move to the front of his trousers as her fingers caressed the space just below his belt buckle. She released a deep sigh into his open mouth, and he seized her mouth with his again. They were soon breathless, and he put his mouth very close to her ear, his words coming out hoarse and urgent. "What if we lock the door, close up shop?  Ron can take all three next door for ice cream. We could sneak upstairs. Or not," he whispered, raising an eyebrow and looking around at the shop. He nibbled on her ear, waiting for her answer. She giggled.

"Oi, you two," Ron called. "There are children here." He covered tiny Hannah's eyes, and raised his eyebrows at them.  Ron turned towards the front door, which had chimed a new arrival.

"Oi, Ron," George called back, still staring into his wife's eyes, "how do you think those children got here?" Rhia smiled at him, kissing his nose, and then glanced toward the chiming door.  Her mouth dropped open, distracting George. He lunged for her mouth again, but she pushed on his chest and he followed her gaze, seeing her oldest brother, Gruffydd, standing in the shop's front doorway. She hadn't spoken to him since her mother's funeral a few weeks ago. Feelings were still tense between them. They had barely spoken at all since the twins had been born.

"Back in the office, Fred," George called to his son, who was peering from behind the curtain. "Aubrey, get your sweater, and meet Uncle Ron by the counter." He approached Rhia's brother hesitantly. "May I help you?"'

Gruffydd glanced over at Rhia who was ignoring him, picking up the hats from the floor that she had dropped and replacing them neatly on the shelf, but returned his gaze to George, speaking quietly, "I'd like to speak with my sister."

"Wait in the office," George said, curtly, pointing to the curtain.  "I'll get her."

Gruffydd pushed the curtain aside and entered the office. He was met by Fred, sitting on a stool, a pile of feathers below his dangling feet. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Fred broke the silence between them. "Mummy has your picture upstairs."

"Does she?"

Fred continued to stare. "Who are you?"

Gruffydd bent over to look into Fred's angry face, smiling at the boy.  "My name is Gruffydd. It's lovely to meet you, Fred."  He put out his hand for shaking. Fred ignored it.

"I don't like you."

"Fred!" Rhia declared sternly, standing in the doorway, having watched the exchange.

Fred's eyes flicked to his mother, but quickly looked his uncle in the eye.  He ignored his mother and continued speaking to Gruffydd. "You make mummy cry, and I don't like you." His eyes flashed and his cheeks became as vivid as his hair. As he glanced at his mum he jumped off the stool, and stepping through the curtain, called out for his father in the shop.

Rhia watched the swishing curtain for a moment, her heart aching.  She felt a swell of pride that her young son would defend her so staunchly, but also a sadness of everything he was missing out on.  She took a deep breath and turned to face her brother. "What can I do for you, Gruffydd?"

" _Mae e un bywiog, na_?"  Gruffydd was smiling pleasantly and Rhia nodded.

" _Mae'n y gwallt coch_."  She smiled, looking at her brother's head, very nearly the same shade as hers and Fred's.

He took a breath and continued. "They'll be finished with Mam's will soon. I'm sure you're in it, so I'll come see you once it's time for the reading." He looked down into her face and as she met his eyes, she nodded. He gave her a gentle smile. "That's not the only reason I came today."

"Oh?"

"It's Branwen. She turns eleven in two weeks and then it's off to Hogwarts soon after that."

"Hogwarts?  Not _Yr Ysgol Cymraeg_?"

"They've remained closed and it's…it's a much safer time now."  Rhia nodded. "I spoke to Celyn and Cadi, and Mairwen, of course, and I'd like for you to come by. We're having a bit of a celebration for her."

"I don't know, Gruff."

He smiled at her use of his familiar name. "I really…I'd like you to be there. And your family, as well," he added hastily. "Your family's welcome, of course." He shuffled his feet and Rhia noticed that it was much like Fred had been shuffling his own earlier. "We've wasted enough time, don't you think, Rhiannon?" He paused to look at her briefly. " _I've_ wasted enough time. Your children are, what, three now?  You son hates me."

"He doesn't know you."

"And he should."

"When is it?"

"Saturday, the twentieth."

"I'll have to check with George; see if Ron can mind the shop with both of us away." She had been looking at her shoes, but met her brother's eyes again. "We have three."

"Shops?  That's great."

She chuckled, "No, Gruffydd; not shops. We have three children.  The twins, Aubrey and Fred were three in January and Hannah was just born in April."

"That's wonderful, Rhiannon. _Bendigedig_.  Is he a good man, this George Weasley?"

She nodded. "He's the best – a good man, a good father, a good friend." They were interrupted by a series of muffled scratchings on the other side of the door next to the desk.  They exchanged a quizzical look.

"What was that?" Rhia looked from her brother to the door where the muffled yelp and scratching sound was coming from. Rhia put a hand out to turn the doorknob, but George had come from nowhere, and grabbed her wrist just before she could touch the door.

"You don't want to do that." "George –"

"Yes, my love." She looked from his hand on hers to his beaming face. The yelping and scratching began again.

"George, we agreed –"

"I can explain, love. Honestly, Rhiannon…" He moved closer to her, continuing to hold her wrist with one hand, using his other arm to pull her against him, leaning down to kiss her.

"I don't think so, George," she said, stepping back before his lips could connect. "We'll discuss this later." She tugged her arm away from him, and turned to face her brother.  "Was there anything else you needed?"

"No," he said quickly.

She walked him to the doorway, pulling the curtain aside for him to exit, but stopped him with a hand. "I am glad you came today."  He nodded and stepped through the doorway, but surprised both Rhia and George when he turned back and pulled her into an embrace, ending it quickly with a kiss to the top of his sister's head. Rhia watched as he exited through the shop, and faced her husband once more. Unbeknownst to her, he had edged closer, and she stepped right into him. He took the opportunity to put his arms tightly around her. She was glaring at him, but he smiled and kissed her cheek.

The dog was now barking loudly, and George smiled again. "Come with me," he said, and before Rhia could respond, he disapparated, taking her by side-along apparition.

She swayed in his arms and he steadied her. "What did you do?  Where are we? You could have splinched me!" She slapped his chest hard, and when he grabbed her hand, he was smiling broadly, bringing her hand to his mouth, kissing first the back and then pressing his lips into her palm. She shivered when she felt his tongue on her skin. They were standing in a large garden next to a house. It was a decent-sized house, not tremendous, but it had three stories and there were two out buildings and a copse of apple trees peeking out from the other side of the garden. This side of the house had raised beds filled with wild daffodils, lilies and other wildflowers that Rhia did not recognize. Nearby, giving some shade was a tall tree, where a bench swing hung from a sturdy branch, swaying gently in the cool breeze. Above their heads was a balcony with double glass doors that opened from the inside. Rhia could see a flower pattern covering the sage coloured curtains over the windows on the pristine white wood doors.  "George, where are we? What is this place?"

He clasped her hand in his, tugging her towards the large door.  "Come inside." George pushed on the dark wood, and the door opened into a large kitchen. There was a substantial fireplace that divided the kitchen from what appeared to be the sitting room on the other side of the hearth. On the left side was an entryway to the sitting room which was well lit from the wall of windows.  To the right, was a staircase heading to a second floor. There was no furniture, not even a kitchen table. Rhia walked around the brick and stonework and looked through the windows, seeing the orchard. George followed her into the room, and leaned against this side of the fireplace. Rhia turned, surveying the empty room again until her eyes fell on George, looking slightly smug.

"George," she said quietly. "Whose house is this?"

His grin widened, but he didn't answer straightaway, enjoying Rhia's confusion.

She took a step towards him. " _Sior, cariad_."

He met her in two steps, taking her into his arms. "You know, I love when you call me that."

"I know. George –"

"It's ours," he blurted out.

"Sorry?  W-W-What did you say?"

"It…is…our…house."

Her breath quickened and she looked into his eyes, trying to see the joke, but he was being serious. He was almost never serious.  Not even when he broke his leg. He pushed her towards the windows again, kissing her cheek and then her neck before sitting her down on his lap on the hard wooden window seat. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him.

"Ours?"

"All ours." His lips brushed against hers, but she pulled her head back, staring very seriously into his eyes. She bit her lower lip.

"Can we afford it?"

He smiled, adding, "Yes."

She glimpsed out the window they were sitting next to. "Where are we? Far from London?"

"Only a floo away." He gestured towards the large fireplace, and Rhia now saw that George could almost stand inside of it. He smiled again, kissing her neck, but at the same time nudging her head so she could the apple trees. "Do you see those trees?"  She nodded, pulling her head away with a giggle. "On the other side of them are our new neighbours – a lovely couple whose children are mostly grown."

"You've met them already?"

"Mmm hmm." He began to nuzzle her neck, poking with his nose and kissing her there.

"Wizards?"

"Mmm hmm." He stopped nuzzling her neck. "Rhia."  She looked at him and saw excitement in his eyes. They were twinkling and she knew he was hiding more surprises that were just bursting to get out.

"Go on, then. You're dying to tell me."

"Behind those trees is The Burrow."

Her eyes widened and she jumped up from his lap, facing him. "The Burrow?" He nodded.

"Our kids will grow up next to their grandparents?"

"Yes.  Learning about Quidditch and Muggles and how to de-gnome the same garden I did."

"Oh George."

"Mum says she'll watch them as well. You can go back to school and become a Healer if you like."

"Really?" she breathed out. He nodded. She covered her mouth with her hands. "Really?" He nodded again. She took a long look around the sitting room.

"Do you like it?"

Her eyes caught his and she moved closer. He separated his knees to let her slide in and she sat on his lap again. She kissed him deeply, surprising him slightly. He responded eagerly with his tongue until they were both breathless.

"Oh _Sior_ , I love this house." She ran her palm across his cheek, settling her finger on his jaw, clean-shaven for once. "I love you, _cariad_."

He smiled. "Can I show you the upstairs? I have so many plans," he said with the excitement of a five-year-old. He pushed her off his lap, rising with her, but as she stepped away, he pulled her back against him. "Say it for me," he whispered in her hair.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Please."  His breath was hot on her neck.

His head nestled in her neck and she spoke softly, breathing each word into his ear. " _Rydw i'n garu di, Sior_."  He covered her mouth with his and smiled through their kiss, pulling her around to the side of the brickwork and running up the stairs, practically dragging Rhia behind him. He stopped in the centre of the hall with a door on either side of them. He pushed open the door to the room on his right, which was empty but had brightly coloured walls in yellow and green.

"I thought the little ones could share for a bit. Aubrey and Fred could use the beds from the flat and Hannah has her cradle, and as they get older, well, I guess, Fred will have to move out since he's the only boy. That means we'll need a new bed, but that will be fun, won't it? Bed shopping." He was so pleased to see the excitement in her eyes. "Do you like the colours?"  She nodded, and squeezed his hand, leaning against his chest.  He kissed the top of her head. "Do you want to see our bedroom?" He turned Rhia so that she faced the opposite door and he stood behind her as he pushed the door open, revealing a true surprise.

Rhia expected this to be like the rest of the house, empty of furniture, but freshly painted like the twins' room. This room had a light coat of pale green paint, picking up the deeper sage of the curtains on the balcony doors she had seen from the outside.  This was the room that was attached to that balcony she had looked up at briefly from the garden.

This room was completely furnished. The entire room was perfectly decorated with matching fabrics and throw pillows. Candles surrounded the large wrought-iron bed, across the bureau and wardrobe and across the mantle of the fireplace across the room. There was a wooden rocking chair between the hearth and the open balcony door. Rhia returned her gaze to the bed, and stared at the quilt covering the bed. It was a patchwork, and looked very much like the one Rhia saw at George's parents' house. The fabrics matched the door curtains with pale purple flowers on a sage green background. She let out a small gasp as she let her eyes, now becoming wet with tears, glance once more around the room.  She couldn't believe how beautiful it was. She looked over her shoulder, smiling at her husband.

This was the one surprise she had never expected from him. She looked back at their bedroom, where they would wake up every morning together for the rest of their lives. They would rest and read and sleep here, and play and make love and be together forever.  She went to step in, but George held her back. She gave him a questioning look. "You didn't have much of a honeymoon," he said, lifting her easily into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as he stepped through the doorway carrying her.

"Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Weasley." He spun her around in a circle, and set her gently on the bed. Rhia ran her hand over the quilt, which was covered in flower petals of many colours.  Rhia admired the detail of the ironwork on the bed, and thought that it was twice the size of the bed she and George currently shared.  She wiped at her tears which had begun to flow freely as she looked around the room, amazed, and then her gaze fell to her husband once more.

"It's so beautiful, George. Did you do all this by yourself?"  He sat beside her on the bed, helping to rub her tears away with his thumbs.

"If I say yes, will you believe me?" She smiled, but before she could say anything, he continued, "Mum and Ginny did a lot, but I picked out the bed." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.  "I haven't tested the mattress yet. Care to help me with that?" As their lips met, he pushed her down on the bed, climbing on top and covering her with his body. He was quickly unzipping her magenta work robes, his fingers nimbly revealing her body to him and Rhia soon forgot about the yelping dog in Diagon Alley as George happily won another argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter End Notes:
> 
> Welsh Glossary
> 
> Adwr- coward  
> Bendigedig – an exclamation meaning blessed – I used it like Congratulations  
> Mae e un bywiog, na? – He is a lively one, no?  
> Mae'n y gwallt coch – It's the red hair.   
> Mam – mum, mother  
> Yr Ysgol Cymraeg – The Welsh School  
> Sior - George  
> Cariad –love, darling, sweetheart  
> Rydw i'n garu di, Sior – I love you, George.
> 
> I'm putting this here since this is the last full chapter. The short epilogue will follow. This was truly the first undertaking of this magnitude for me. Completed, it will total almost 72,000 words, and I would like to express a deep appreciation to all of the readers, past, present and future for reading, enjoying and commenting. This would not have been at the caliber that it was without the help of sopaltenbass as beta. I could not have asked for a better person to help me. I would also like to thank peredur_glyn for the times that he corrected my Welsh. I cannot believe that I was so lucky. Thank you both.


	14. Epilogue - One More For a Quidditch Team

Rhia padded softly down the stairs, wanting the little ones to sleep a bit longer. When she climbed out of her and George's large bed, she'd found that three of their six children had crowded in during the night. That was probably why George had risen so early.  She found her husband in his usual spot, sitting at his desk, poring over paperwork, invoices and idea sheets from the shop. He had a quill in one hand and his other hand was holding the parchment steady and his drumming fingers tapped out a somewhat familiar tune.  Rhia knew it, but couldn't quite place it. Hmm, hmm, hmm, she hummed, louder than she planned and he glanced at her, smiling at the surprise of her standing nearby.

She was wearing his shirt from yesterday. She was so petite that he was surprised how well it covered her. It fell to her knees and she filled it in nicely, certainly much better than he did in his opinion. His eyes shone as he followed her bare legs down to bare feet and then back up her curves to her dark red hair as she stepped into the office. He reached for her with the non-quill hand while the quill hand continued scraping figures and words on the parchment in front of him. As he reached around her waist, his hand settled on the small of her back and pulled her closer so that their bodies could converge, but just barely. He tilted his neck back trying to hint at what he wanted, and she knowingly obliged by running one hand through his hair, caressing his face with the other, and kissing him at last. He let her end the embrace sooner than he wanted.

He dropped the quill on the desk and turned to face her; he rested a hand on her hip, but only for a moment as he ran his hand up her side until he cupped her breast through his crisp cotton shirt, giving her a squeeze as he pulled her closer still, his mouth catching her gasp as he kissed her again, licking her lips and then her tongue.  They were both breathless as she bit his tongue and as he moaned into her, his hand caressing the bump of her stomach that remained after the birth of their last child. Well, their most recent child; who knew if she would be their last. Rhia leaned into him, sitting on his lap and straddling him, hands gliding up his back to tug on his ear and weave in his hair as her mouth covered his.  He pushed her tongue out, not letting her enter, and she whimpered, disappointed at his rejection.

"Come on," she whinged, trying once more. He laughed, and when his mouth opened, she thrust her tongue in. He was not ready for her, and he was still laughing, but recovered soon after, seizing her tongue with his lips and then massaging it with his own.

He smiled as he pushed his hips up into her and she groaned. He rolled his chair closer to the door, shoving it closed with a quiet thump. Reaching down, he grabbed the hem of her shirt, his really, and tugged it off, revealing one naked wife on his lap.  Her head curved back as he moved his mouth playfully down her jaw, her neck, stopping at her breasts. When she moaned again, and dropped her hips lower onto his groin, he took hold of her thighs, and lifting her up, carefully rearranged themselves on the floor.  She was groping for his trousers, undoing the belt and yanking them down, baring his hardness to her. As he sunk into her deeply, she moaned another time, and pulled his hair, but he was moving up and down, in and out, too occupied to notice. He was panting hot bursts of breath on her skin, and she was grazing his shoulders with her fingernails. They reached the moment together, feeling warm and sated as his energy completely disintegrated and he fell on top of her. They were both breathing heavily, and it took Rhia a moment to realize how uncomfortable she was.

"George," she said, quietly, attempting to push him off of her. "George, please get off," she panted.

He slid off quickly, recognizing the seriousness of her tone. He noticed her hand rubbing her stomach. "Rhia," he said, slowly. "Rhia, are you –"

She cut him off. "Don't ask the question if you don't want the answer, _cariad_."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you remember when we had Dora, you asked for one more, for a Quidditch team?" He was silent as she paused, looking into his eyes. "Well, meet your newest recruit." She hesitated now, gauging George's response. It was true that they were doing well with the shop, but their houseful of children still took a lot of gold to keep them in trainers and broomsticks.  The two oldest were beginning Hogwarts in the upcoming term, and the cost was weighing on George's mind. "Are you all right with this?"

Finally, he smiled. "I'm fantastic with this. I love you; I love our kids. Anyway, we need another boy. Fred and I are seriously outnumbered." She laughed, playing with his hair as he rested his head on her soon-to-be-more ample breasts and one hand on her stomach, a small smile lying on his mouth. They both looked towards the door at the same moment as they heard the patter of footsteps jumping off of the bed, and running down the stairs. George looked into his wife's face, a huge grin still on his. "Breakfast?"

They smiled at each other for a moment more, and then George pulled Rhia to him until their lips met yet again. He said nothing, but stared into her dark eyes. He rubbed his hand across her belly, but glanced at the door as the patter on the steps grew into louder thuds. His eyes twinkled and he rose, hastily pulling on his trousers, leaving his boxers and today's shirt behind the door as he closed it, shielding Rhia's nakedness. She laughed, listening at the door as she slipped George's discarded shirt back on along with her knickers.

She didn't enter the kitchen, but stood watching her family, arms folded across her chest, leaning on the door frame. George had remained shirtless and laughed at something one of the twins was doing. While five-year-old Mared was entertaining Daddy, her other half Gemma was begging for crispy bacon. Rhia shook her head. It was never burnt enough for her. Aubrey was slicing the tomatoes and Fred was tossing George the eggs one at a time. Hannah was showing two-year-old Dora how to butter the toast, and everyone was chattering while George split open each egg, letting each one drop into the hot pan. Rhia smiled again as the smell of the eggs, tomatoes and bacon frying reached her nostrils. It almost felt like Sunday morning except that it was Wednesday. Normally, George was at the shop now, but Ron was filling in so he could take everyone to Diagon Alley for Aubrey and Fred's school supplies. Their letters had come last week.  Aubrey had offered to share one cauldron with Fred, and Fred said that he didn't need his own spell books, but George would not have any of that.

Rhia approached George from behind, sliding her hand along his broad back from shoulder to shoulder, making him smile at her soft caress, and then finally rested it around his waist. He put his own arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, kissing her deeply, much to his daughters' displeasure.

"Eww, Mam," Hannah exclaimed.

"Dad!  That's disgusting." Aubrey called. "You're supposed to be fixing breakfast."

He was ignoring his children and whispering in Rhia's ear, and she blushed when he kissed her again.

"Dad!  I'm hungry!" Fred's whinge added to the fray, but it was Dora's jumping up and down and pointing that got everyone's attention now. Her jumping got the dog barking and running towards the window.

"No!  Down, Braith!" Rhia grabbed Braith by his speckled mane and they all turned to the window as the midnight-coloured bird landed gracefully on the sill.

"It's Bran, Mam," Mared said.

Gemma added, "He's got a letter. Can I get it, Mam?"

"No, me."

"No, it's my turn."

"Actually," George said loudly. "It's my turn."

"Dad!"

"Daddy!"

He handed Rhia the spatula and took a step towards the window.  "Come here, Bran. Let's have the leg." Bran obliged, and George took the letter. "Rhee, it's for you."  He took back the spatula as she took the letter from him with a kiss.

"It's from Uncle Gruffydd. They're getting Rhys' school things today as well. We can meet them at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch." She turned to George. "Will that be all right with Harry and Bill?"

"I don't see why not. The Leaky might mind all those kids in there, though." He turned back to the group. "Weasleys.  Table." The sound of chairs scraping and forks clanking filled the kitchen as all eight of them sat at the large wooden table enjoying their breakfast.

* *

After dropping all the parcels and school supplies with Ron at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, they set out to meet Gruffydd at the Leaky Cauldron.  Harry, Ginny, and their three were waiting at the shop with Andromeda and Teddy. As they were just leaving again, Bill, Fleur and their three arrived, and they all travelled to the Leaky together.  Teddy was regaling the almost-first years with his first year that he had recently finished, and the younger ones were listening raptly with the attention usually given only to Granddad Weasley.

Gruffydd was already there, waiting. Rhys was a second year, in Hufflepuff with Teddy, and Rhydderch would begin next year. All the cousins sat together and Victoire and Aubrey did a terrific job keeping the younger ones in line. Dora was the most difficult to wrangle – she was definitely George Weasley's daughter.  Often times, even he felt that she was actually channeling his _twin_.  Fred was still missed, but he was everywhere in his nieces and nephews, and especially in little Dora. She shared the same twinkle as her Uncle Fred and the same sense of adventure. She could never be left on her own. When she was told it was too cold to play outside, she climbed out of the upstairs window.  If she was hungry, she never waited for her parents. She was independent-minded, and George was already concerned about her Hogwarts' years. She had already shown magical ability, changing her hair colour from light to dark and shortening it when Rhia had refused to cut it. They thought briefly that she was a Metamorphmagus like her namesake, but that was ruled out at St. Mungo's. She was just a bit more advanced, and needed a keen eye kept on her.

They sat together, watching Rhia's brother laughing with George's sister. George leaned back against the wall of the booth, his legs stretched out under the table, Rhia leaning her head against his chest. He had his arm around her shoulder and his other one rested for a moment on his wife's stomach. He had a grin plastered on his face. He whispered quietly into her ear, and his lips kissed a path from there, down her cheek, stopping at her lips, kissing her lightly, but deepening it as his hand pressed on her stomach.

"God, Rhiannon." He spoke softly, his breath caressing her cheek with each word. "I love you." He smiled again, and then they both realized that the table had become quiet until Fred spoke up.

"They're always like that," he said with an eye roll.

"Always?"

"Always," came the chorus of their children.

"How long have you been married now?" Andromeda asked with a gentle smile.

"Almost twelve years," Rhia answered.

"How many of these are yours?" she asked, pointing a hand towards the children.

George used an index finger and pretended to do a head count. "Two, four, six, eight, ten, no, it's six. For the moment," he added.

"Sorry?" Gruffydd interjected. "Did you say 'for the moment'?"

George nodded and Rhia smiled, pushing George's hand away from her stomach.

"Are you –"

They both nodded, but there was no need. Gruffydd, Harry and Aubrey were already rolling their eyes, and Fred was looking thankful that he would be away at school. George reached over Rhia's plate, taking her full glass of bitter, and draining it halfway down, smiling at his wife.


End file.
